"Does writing change you as a writer?"

"Yes it does, my voice turns into
the words inside your mind."

"But why can't I
remember you well?"

"Maybe you didn't keep the words
in your head."

"Even if I feel you enough?"

"Then you must've kept them
in your heart instead."

Stars,planets, space, infinite expanse.
Is it just old light?
Is it just ice, rocks and dust?
Is life all encompassing?
Is coalescence a must?
Writing a verse about the universe.
Is matter the chorus written within the song of infinity?
Does gravity flow and ebb like the tide?
Does time writhe and struggle like the dying beast?
Will the void consume as does a king at his feast?
What is it that planets discuss?
"What is really at your core?"
"Do you know your own state?"
"Be it solid, liquid, gas or plasma?"
"Perhaps do you contain condensate?"
Collapsing, contracting, imploding, eroding.
Was it all just a sneeze of creation by some omnipotent presence?
What does it all mean?
Where is the essence?

I wanted to leave.
Maybe fly high into space, reach for a star that as of right now seem so distant.

Can I fly without a spaceship? Maybe just drift into the oxygen-less void and let my eyes blur for a sudden death that in all honesty seems so calm, peaceful even.

“have you ever felt love?” he asked

drinking
down
my
last one for the night
i replied,

like an atmosphere.

in the space between us
everything connects me to you
each infinitesimal atom a bridge

the same way
I could feel your skin
and we'd never touch