Maybe stars aren't meant to be reached. Maybe they are just there to guide you, to light up the darkness of the night.

They may not be beside you, but they are always with you, looking down, watching.

Maybe you are a star yourself.
A star that inspires.
So, keep your head up high, smile, and keep shining.

Bruises marked his hands, like the heavens above.
Filled with the creeping dusk of pink and purple hues.

Specks of fading freckles, imprinted on his skin,
Like a vault into the andromeda galaxy.

Scars of old untold tales marked her wrists.
Her struggles, like the moons of Jupiter.

Valleys of stretch marks forged onto her skin,
Like the sand dunes from a drying land.

But they loved every atom within each other,
Cause the atoms of her flesh were his stars.
And he was her constellation that embraced her soul,
Together glowing in the darkness of the night.

This February sky is mad and beautiful
and I want to hold its stars in my mouth.
I want to cough them up into new constellations,
spit out the blackness
That gets caught in the back of my throat.
Feel the cold of the moon under my tongue
While the galaxies swirl in my stomach
twisting my insides into new knots
While I know that inside me
There is the potential to create
New worlds, new stars
I breathe in the light studded darkness
Close my eyes and see the night sky
That has made it’s home within me.
I may not be a constellation,
But I could be.

There is no more straddling state lines for you.  

You are no longer teetering on the edge of
               life          and           death
because you are now deader than my father’s
dead bell heart.  You are laying in a morgue and
I am sitting on a train, miles and miles from you.  An
early bloomer, a preemie baby boy, you are
                                                                ­              one day too soon.  

I am watching the trees of Arkansas of Missouri of Illinois
pass me by, but you are being
                                                      whisked
                                                                ­      and
                                                                ­               twirled
                                                                ­      and
                                                      whirled
                    through the stars.
(I am trying to imagine what it must feel like to
explode into a supernova, to
implode into a constellation.
I am trying to contemplate what it means to
reach                    
                            i n f i n i t y        
                                  and
                 ­           n i h i l i t y
                                                             at the same time.)

Careening headfirst towards the midwest, I
am heading towards a home I no longer wish to go.  I have
spent my night in a daze between
                                                              asleep        and        awake,
listening to a man snore and a baby cry, and nothing is stopping
me from thinking about the steps in post-mortem care.  I have
seen dead bodies before.  I have touched dead bodies before.  
I do not want to come in contact with yours.  

My problem is not that you finally finished your
transition from                  boy        to        skeleton,
my problem is that you did so without
asking your mother’s permission.  I read the
Book of James the night before your surgery two years ago
and forgot it the very next day.  There is nothing I want more
than to swim laps and crochet scarves and write bad poems and
become void of all the information that I currently hold.

I want to forget that I knew you.
I want to forget that I thought I loved you.
I want to forget my attachment to you so it won’t
hurt as bad now that you’re
                                                   ( d e a d ) .

your eyes
just like crystals
they shone with such beauty
that little glimmer in your eyes
when you smile
is magic
i miss being the magician
who brought that glimmer

your lips
were a shade of red
just like wine
and i was ready to get drunk
on them
after being sober ever since
you left

your dimples
are so deep
it was almost as if they had
a treasure buried beneath them
a treasure which is only known
when you're smiling
i miss being that treasure


who knew how all your imperfections
joined together can create something so beautiful
you were almost like a constellation
a bunch of stars lined together
messy but magnificent

Dark is the night in which we both reside
Black curls unfurl like waves in midnight's rising tide
Thirty years I’ve walked this Earth, and since birth I’ve tried to find
Everything you inherently possess inside
You are a different direction; the brightest constellation in the night sky
Stars burn as the more I learn, each time you speak your mind.

ever since i was young,
my gaze was drawn skyward.
i could tell you the story of orion,
and how to brush bernice's hair,
before i could tell you that two plus two equals four.
i know more about our vast universe,
than i know about many of my friends.

if you are not well acquainted with a pisces,
let me give you a bit of an introduction:
we are compassionate, imaginative,
we adapt to whatever is thrown at us,
and my personal favourite,
we are unfalteringly loyal.

however...
we are full of self-hate,
prone to laziness,
we are escapists
and horrendously easy to manipulate.

i believe my horoscope today is complete *******.
i do not feel utterly lovely,
i know i will not score a date
because no one feels for me romantically.
i've nothing to flaunt.
the horoscopes are saccharine lies,
but, those traits? those are me.

my soul is ancient,
i feel the pain of struggles i have not faced,
or rather, have not YET faced;
i will split my soul in two
i will break my bones
i will give every drop of my blood
i will breathe my last breath
for those that i love.

i spent two years of my life giving my heart and soul to a sagittarius.
philosophical, adventurous.
i admired him so.
but his negatives--
inconsistent. overconfident.
careless.
he was a burning house.

my mother, also a pisces, when all was said and done,
told me to stay away from those sagittarius boys.
they're dangerous for wary, fretful fish like us,
who ask 'from what bridge?' when we are told to jump.