you with the bruised half-moons under your eyes
from nights spent staring at the ceiling-
you with the unshaved legs
because most of your time in the shower is too tired to move-
you with the messy, untamed haircut
that nobody else likes (but you like it)
you with the low grades and empty bank account
because you can't focus, can't understand-
you with the parents who laugh about war
who flaunt their freedom as if they will never be affected
you with the friends who roll their eyes over death
who say things like "they're in a better place now"
who are you?
who are you, star-child?
"i'm me, of course" she answers, confused by the question.
her hands are a fake warm hue, her hair likewise, her skin flushed and angry.
(she has heard this question before, she already knows the answer.)
and there is another voice, screaming somewhere, sobbing and begging to be released, because-
the star-child has shoved her down, has shut her in a tight box and hidden her under years of dust and neglect.
the girl in the box is all white daisies and yellow t-shirts.
she is dancing in the rain and laughing when snowflakes catch on her eyelashes.
she is unbothered by thoughts of college or war, unbothered by budgets or relationships or the future.
she is holding hands with someone faceless, someone with a white smile splitting the black void of their face.
someone faceless is pulling his hand away-
someone faceless is turning his back.
"i'm me," the star-child answers, even as frozen tears fall and shatter on her hands. "who else would i be?"
"you with the tears soaking your pillow at night," i whisper,
"you with the silent screams into darkness,
"you with the selflessness that requires no one to see you hurting,
"you with the fear that he will look back and try to save you,
"you with the knowledge that you can't be saved-"
all stars burn up and fall,
some faster than others.
"i'm-" she begins again, but there are no words to finish her sentence this time.
her throat is closed up and her eyes are watering.
her hands are gray and dull, her hair likewise, her skin bleached.
there is no color left in this fallen star.
there is no life left in this fallen star.
