Our sunset is absolutely stunning.
But right before I can even get a glimpse of you,
you leave again to allow me to shine bright
even in the midst of the darkness that will surround me.
My night stars always me tell me many stories all of you
and your day clouds recite great tales of me.
I really couldn't ask for anything more.
what they do is take me on a grand ride
past our skies,
past our realms,
and into each other,
and all that we are.
what your clouds say of me
and what my stars say of you
are so very nice.
so based on everything they've said,
I expect you to be the Sun, the one responsible for all life
and you, darling, expect me to be the Moon, the one responsible for all waves.
oh.
that's very strange,
at least what those clouds said about me, I mean,
what--what will you do when you realize I’m such a rock?
I know certainly that I'm not responsible for anything.
In fact, I feel as though I am barely anything.
Oh, you won't be pleased with me.
I am nothing that they say!
and now...
I think...
well...
I have realized...
that maybe...
we are better off this way.
separated.
forever.
It’s almost sunrise.

I didn't account for this...
You see,
he is just a ball of burning gas,
and of course, of course
I would have loved him anyway

I still remember exactly what you feel like.
Your bones were everything to me.
I remember how I studied you, almost like I knew one day you’d be my greatest memory.
It’s taunting.
You let me drown in my despair a million times so why does it make me happy that you still linger in me?
What gives me solace is what used to be and what we could have been
but I’m looking forward to the day it won’t be so hard.
When you become nothing to me I wonder how my life will be?
I am broken with my pieces thrown in all different directions.
Will I really be whole?
You gave me up.
You threw me away.
You left me for dead.
My love… you left me for dead.

It troubles me that
I’ve never felt you
I’ve never felt
The length of your arms
The pulsation of your beating heart
The expansion of your breathing lungs
Your skin
Your hair
And It hardly makes sense
To be truly infatuated with you
But I don’t want it to
I wish to be lost in everything about you
To explore you would be my greatest desire
To dig into you
But to never find
And be perfectly content

I think it's the saddest thing
I am blind
You are deaf
But we are madly in love
Though you see me clearly
You can't hear me

I scream for you until my mouth bleeds
And I run circles around you, never finding you
I think it's the saddest thing
We speak two different languages
You will never hear my desperate voice
How will you know I'm forever searching for you?
I can only hope that one day you'll see me
The way I will never be able to

I have never once been so infatuated
Never once been so distracted
Never once been so deterred
I have never once been so hopeful
At the same time I have never been so frightened
Because this feeling like any other is temporary
As nothing ever lasts too long
That's what they say

So what do you call a feeling as unique as this?
Call it nothing
Don't take away from this mystery
Leave it how it is
And allow it to linger
Allow it to be

Temporary or otherwise

Will the universe care if you're the one behind your own end?
It didn't care all those nights you cried.
It didn't answer back when you asked "why?"
Life will go on without you. Almost like you were never even there.
Although life may not care, the universe saw it all.
Maybe that's enough.
You will go down in history,
There's no doubt of it.
You are a tiny snowflake in a snowstorm.
It's true,
No small snowflake takes full responsibility for the power of a mighty blizzard.
And no water droplet takes full responsibility of a great tsunami,
So do not fear your insignificance among the rest of existence or reality,
For like a snowflake, you are undeniably unique.
You may melt away,
But there could never be another.
The universe knows this
And will write down your expiration  
The same way it wrote down your first breath.
You are documented.
You and everything you saw through your precious eyes,
Heard with your precious ears,
And touched with your precious hands.
It's all there.
It will remain,
Forever documented.
I, for one, consider our own story
A far greater tale than any book could ever tell.
Think back to your many chapters.
For what reason can we recall our seemingly endless events in our temporary life?
The reason is purpose,
Purpose beyond our own life,
Manifested in the vast disarray of the cosmos.
Will the universe care if you're the one behind your own end?
It will not cry at your funeral.
And it will not miss you.
But unlike anything you could ever imagine, it will matter.
Think past a life.
Think past an afterlife.
Think past your fickle, temporary feelings.
Think past your hair,
Your skin,
Even your smile,
It will be forgotten.
All will be left is your essence,
Your spirit,
Things about you that could never be described by the look of you.
I call this fortunate.
I call this existing truly beyond existing.
I call this purpose.