"Baby the moon is huge tonight
it reminds me of your eyes."*

But I was looking for shooting stars.

Oh Isabelle, by the time you have read this letter, I will be gone.
Don’t fill up Styx with your celestial tears, dolorous darling.
I was always the heavy volume between dark and light, never the heavens you imagined.
But the tiny fragments of shimmer you saw in space.
I was the Sun, Polaris, Sirius and Vega
You insist to give me a name and meaning
I was Orion, Taurus, Aries, Andromeda,
No longer the withered blossoms of stars

Sonorous darling, there is not much to say
but that I am no longer yours
No longer the array of constellations you made of me

I belong to another
Another Celeste, another Corona
Perhaps I never was the constant Sun
I was the shifting heavens, the voracious tides on Neptune

And now I’m no longer yours
Rising from my astral birth, Im no longer yours.

i dream of silk and black lipstick, leather and ice-burn
i fashion thoughts into clouds of smoke i ghost out of my mouth
into necklaces i will only ever give to you; you
are burnt russet bitten lip bleached bone coalesced into
constellation; you burn brighter
than any constellation i have ever breathed

i dream of your hipbones; stretch marks flicking over them
like lightning glimpsed between fingers; like wishbones silently pulled apart
in promise; you are wishbone you are gold plate you are sunshine
through a stained-glass window; my heart is glass
a cemetery to your footprints a cathedral to your broken
dreams; i can taste the honey in your scattered thoughts
like a prayer on my tongue
i dream of deep purple and yellow and green and
black and fading bruise and blood
at the corner of your lip; i can taste iron in your breath
rotting in my dreams slow-burning ice in my veins; vengeance
is a dish best served cold i know
that if i unfurl my skeleton and tuck you into the spaces between my
ribcage and my lungs you will taste just as sweet

i dream of ruby emerald sapphire in brooches pinned onto black i
think of the bruise-giver of the blood-spiller of cracks in my
ribcage of wishbones of constellations of iron-taste of ice-burn of you of you of you
and i let you in
and i am cathedral i am cemetery i am bonfire i am in l o v e
with constellation

Your mosaic soul shows cracks, shattered glass,
jagged on the edges
and red where your pricked your fingers trying to pick them up.
I see pieces putting together something greater.
your water color freckles,
splattered over pale skin.
I'd compare them to the constellations, but those are just shapes
and the path im tracing with my fingers tells me much more.
there's no dawn in your golden brown eyes,
the sun I see shinning through stained glass is too bright to be just barely rising.
you are reckless laughter caught in a shutter
a frame by frame moment of the last trickles of childhood
blackness blurring the edges around you
from being left too long in the developer.
your lips feel like oil pants,
sliding over mine like a blank canvas,
I can still see the masterpiece you made me into.
I can still feel the whips of graphite tears pouring down your cheeks as you let all of the art you hold inside.

i think about you. a lot. and i don't mean at cliche 2am where poets taint their hands with ink and paper cuts. no. i think about you when i look at the sun rising at 5am. when i make coffee at 6. when bon iver comes up on the radio and i tap my fingers along the tune or when i read your favorite book and on every page i search for fragments of your fingerprint. i think about you at noon. because i'd rather have your lips than my tuna sandwich. and at 2pm because you texted "i miss you" and i replied "i love you". at 5pm as the sun slowly disappears on the horizon and is replaced by a blanket of stars. i think about you at 10 in the evening when i'm alone looking at the night sky and the incandescent moon wishing i could trace your palms the way we tend to trace constellations. i think about you at 3am when i say my prayers and i whisper your name to God with a ghost of a smile. i tell Him i must have done something good to deserve you. it seems that you're stuck in my brain. heck, you're in my veins. and i don't ever want you out of my system.

eyes are like constellations; unless you know what you are looking for and looking at, they are just eyes

You shine,
brighter than the constellations.
The curve of your lips,
welcomes me home.