kneeling down to the night sky.
praying.
As the galaxy is my religion and the northern star is my god.
My heart is screaming to the glittery sparkly and calming site above me.
Oh dear god.
please.
I won’t ask for much.
Just give me a tiny little bit of this magical thing everyone is talking about.
A thing, I want to discover.
A thing, I am curious about.
A thing they call,
Love.

i have a universe in my chest;
the one without the stars and satellites
and galaxies,
and sometimes, i tell myself
it doesn’t exist

it doesn’t exist

it doesn’t exist.

sometimes, i wanna believe that.

but.

there are nights when the void
is getting harder to ignore
and the way my stomach sinks
feels so much like
sinking into merging black holes,
and i breathe
the way pluto breathes
and darling, they say
that poems about the universe
are romantic.

until it isn’t.

until it consumes you from the inside.

until you see the moons in their planets
and the planets in their orbits,
and the nebulae flung from dying stars.

and there you are
light years away,
falling
and falling,
and falling,

into the black hole.
into the void.


into your chest.