When I try to connect to another,
I quickly discover,
That our worlds couldn’t be more separate from each other.
It’s not that hard to uncover,
And it makes me wonder,
Are our lives just mindless inside our bubbles?

Overhearing conversations,
Is a fascinating endeavor,
One I would recommend.
Without interventions,
They’ll keep on talking forever,
Without an end.
You may start to understand,
That the world’s quite bigger,
Than we can wrap our heads around.
It may be hard to comprehend,
With all of the triggering,
Surrounding sounds.

I’m in a different atmosphere,
In my bubble,
Waiting to be discovered.
Not yet in the biosphere,
Of another,
That’s a journey on its own.
Watching my exosphere,
As people pass by like comets,
Without a second thought.
A dwarf planet,
Floating aimlessly,
Contemplating,
My atmosphere,
Slowly thinning.

Listening,
To people talk about their lives,
And their strifes,
Totally different all the time.
The pinnacle of misery for any given day to me,
Could be I got a paper cut that caused me to bleed.
But what do I hear occasionally when someone shares their lives?
“Hey, my dog just died…”
Fires off as loudly as a gun,
Breaking reality underneath my feet,
Questioning if they’re just looking for sympathy,
Or empathy,
To comfort them in their time of need.

Our problems can seem so large,
To us,
Yet, comparatively to another,
They’re so minute.
Some people feel like when they wake,
It’s another day just to lose,
While others add to their bruises,
Just what they needed.
Lack of consideration,
Or spatial awareness,
Contributing to,
All of our stress.

Perhaps people are vastly different than me,
On certain things,
For one, most got their driver’s license just as they turned sixteen,
But that wasn’t a personal priority,
I need to become less jittery, first,
One thing at a time.
Most people are far more social than I’ll ever be,
Probably my biggest insecurity,
Is whether I,
Talk too much or too little,
Say anything that’s worth the listen.
Some friends adore going out,
Scouring the town,
And spending time with each other,
And if you don’t, it’s hard to recover.
I want a friendship where the person understands the way I am,
Before the butterfly can fly it needs a suitable environment.

I’m in an alien atmosphere,
Hoping to be noticed,
Hurt when it doesn’t come to pass.
Dreaming about experiencing the biosphere,
Of others,
And making memories that last,
Many years.
Gazing at my exosphere,
As the comets fly past,
Knowing that I’ll find my way at last.
Space has a lot of space,
And statistically and certainly,
There’s a habitable planet for me.
So I can circle it like a moon does,
Form a meaningful bond,
As we both are assaulted by the sun.

Just have to wait,
A common theme of life,
I’ll quicken my sorrowful gait,
Because I want to see what lies in the light…

These cold halls are somehow less cold with you
Your gentle hands guiding me through the atmosphere
Soft voice echoing down from the heavens
A superterrestrial blessing

And, god, you even smell warm
Sunshine and soft linen
Tell me more about your day
Drawl on about boring classes and empty paragraphs

Sagan said that we're made of star stuff
And I believed him as soon as I saw you
Black hair deeper than the universe
Sun-kissed skin, radiating like a celestial body

You say my my old name like it's the only thing that matters
Who knew something so wrong could sound so right when it falls from your lips?
I guess every moon can shine when it has a sun
Even if it's just a reflection

I want to smooth away the empty space
Weave constellations between us
Twinkling lights to illuminate my way
Across the limitless expanse

So I'll chart your course and watch in awe
As you dazzle the earthlings with your brilliance
Because you're a dancing comet in the sky
And I'm lucky to witness your orbit

Every time I blink,
our worlds grow farther apart.

Every time you blink,
my shadow abstracts itself.

Yesterday,
a rose.

Today,
a crown.

Tomorrow,
the space between us.

Do you see it yet?
The darkness that separates even stars.

I guess I'll love you like the sun,
Despite so many things it could've won.
It chose to give its light to the moon,
Hoping, one day, they'll meet soon.
I guess I'll love you like the moon,
Who saw the Earth as a boon,
And circled endlessly round it,
Despite knowing the hearts it had lit.
I guess I'll love you like the Earth,
Who revolved around the sun despite knowing its worth.
Despite the effort and longing it took,
It believed that one day, the sun will look.
But destiny didn’t let
The day come when the sun and moon met.
Destiny couldn’t accept
The reason It followed the Earth—
The depth.
And destiny was too shook,
To let the sun even look.
For us, what if destiny isn’t ready?
Will you still write with me, our own medley?

My love for you is vast and wild,
A roaring star in endless deep.
Through cosmic tides, so free, beguiled,
Your gravity—my soul to keep.

A roaring star in endless deep,
You burn within my boundless sky.
Your gravity—my soul to keep,
No force can break, no time deny.

You burn within my boundless sky,
A nebula of light untamed.
No force can break, no time deny,
Nor name the fire that we have claimed.

A nebula of light untamed,
Through cosmic tides, so free, beguiled.
Nor name the fire that we have claimed,
My love for you is vast and wild.

The stars stretch wide, a silver-painted grave,
A man alone, adrift without a name.
His breath grows thin; the warning lights burn red,
The suit he wears a coffin wrapped in glass.
The tether snapped, the ship a fading spark,
And all he has are echoes of the past.

He drifts through void, remembering the past,
The choices made, the risks, the lives he gave.
The dying ship still flickers as a spark,
A beacon lost, too distant now to name.
He wonders if they see him through the glass,
A silhouette in flashing hues of red.

His visor blurs in fading streaks of red,
A silent film that plays upon the past.
His wife once traced her fingers on this glass,
A smile soft, before the call was grave.
They said his name—his name—he had a name,
But now it dims like embers in the spark.

His oxygen is fading, like the spark
Of engines gasping warnings lit in red.
He calls out once, a whisper of his name,
But silence only answers from the past.
The stars are cold, indifferent in their grave,
Reflected in the curvature of glass.

He lifts a trembling hand against the glass,
The frost like veins of fire losing spark.
The universe is wide, but still a grave,
A place where death does not arrive in red
But drifts along the corridors of past,
Unraveling the meaning of a name.

And what remains of him without a name?
A flicker pressed to light-years thick in glass,
A memory dissolving into past,
A signal lost, a beacon without spark.
The Earth will never know his warning, red—
His final breath dissolves into the grave.

No name, no spark, just frozen hands on glass.
The stars burn red; the past has sealed its grave.

Do you prefer space, or the deep ocean?
Or the void at end of the world
where the ocean was before
it turned to salt? Or all of the above?

Me, I prefer the all-out sprint to the edge
where the toes abandon the sun-warmed planks,
the infinity of just existing in air, a moment
before the infinity of just existing in cold water.

There is boundless freedom only found
constrained to a minute's unreversed decision.
There is endless wisdom only gained when lost
to the great unknown, unwritten verities.

There is uncanny comfort in this pastel wind
over gray land, in the unconcerned moon,
in the one thing you don't even think about until
you need to find where you dropped your keys.

In reality, "all of the above" is the correct response,
and you can with joy fling yourself into the abyss
of any unfathomed mystery, any new creation
to discover whether you will float, or sink, or swim.

Or we could just spend the day together
at an art museum, leave your jacket and keys there
on the benighted beach, hold hands, and jump
through the wormhole at the center of the galaxy.

Black, space, satiated void,
a meaty elixir, romanticised steroid,
a lens through which we see the heart,
a core, a seed where life shall start.

I hope in deepest darkest dreams,
that life shall come as godly fiends,
to shame us all and show us splendour,
our childhood may we then remember.

When stars were bright and mighty things,
more than flame in frost,
they inspired our hearts and dreams,
the gifts that we have lost.

I look up and I see them each,
looking down on me.
worlds and stories I'd like to see,
but sadly cannot reach.