i am
nebula
an explosion of stardust
i am
a supernova
fear me
i am
universes
galaxies
asteroids
i am
a little cosmos
within me
if you don't dare
reach
for the stars
stay away from me
i'll swallow you
like a black hole
i am made out of
dark matter
don't you even dare
come closer
if you're not ready
to explore
uncharted
territory

when did this get so complicated?
When i was a kid, I could walk outside
and I could comment on how beautiful the stars were
and no would hurt me for it
because all I am is stardust
all I am is stardust
aligned to make me me
and no one will take me seriously
because all i am
is a lonely poet
made of stardust and dreams that I wake up
longing for
because the girl in my dream needed me
in the autumn
because stardust has broken
and now I can't see any light.

The days of years past
Are like a blurry bit of water
Stained in the paint
From the brush I’ve used to tell my story

I find myself looking at the water,
The colors still ever
So
Visible
But they’re melding together now
Shifting into gray matter
Or maybe
Back into the stardust they started as

I don’t know

But I see it in my feelings too
The gray matter
I feel my anger fade
I feel my glee fade
My happiness
My hate
Of you.

I feel it all fade into gray…
Because all at once,
You took the one thing that could distinguish
All those strong feelings
And smashed it
You took my heart and mistreated it.
So now I’m here.
Looking back on our story,
Not in Color anymore.
I look at it in black and white.

I see no fun.
I see no sadness.
I see what happened.
I see what we started as and what we ended as.
And that…
That is sadder than anything I’d ever felt.

So I look at the water.
I watch and try to hold on to those traces of blue,
Red, and Gold
Before they get swallowed up in Black.

His name was Jonathan.
And he was bright silver.

i wish my words could reach you
because maybe then
you would open your eyes
and see
that you deserve every compliment you get,
and that you are a product of the gods;
that the sun's gentle kisses have seeped into your bones,
and that stardust is in your veins;
that your blood is divine and oceanborn,
and that your skin is the sand of that very same ocean;
that your eyes are vortexes of mystery and desire,
and that your smile is the planets aligning;
that your mind is a beautiful enigma;
and that you are simply
miraculous.

but i don't think my words reach you,
and, honestly,
i'm not sure they ever will.

but in the meantime,
just remember that your skin is the sand,
and that the blood of the ocean doesn't deserve to be spilled.

just remember that your eyes are vortexes,
and that they don't deserve the tears that so often fill them.

and,
if you will,
just remember that i love you.

(a.m.)

And you there rubbing the stardust out of your eyes that fell there upon a chance but has given you visions of worlds and skies far above
You are riddled with thoughts of far away worlds that you'll visit only in spirit and never in body
Where violescent atmospheres swirl above the dusty grounds and flicker behind your eyelids
But you'll be content even when others know you as the star-blinded child

         You'll be proud.

i can never really organize my thoughts,
so much to the point that
at one moment
i might be thinking that nothing could be worse
than it already is,
but at the next,
i might be admiring the beauty of life,
and how everything is grand,
and how i can almost see the sparkles that emerge from the stardust in your veins.

i can never really stick to one thing,
so much to the point that,
at one moment
i might be writing lines of poetry about veins brimming with stardust,
but at the next,
i may be considering what an utter cliché
that line is.

i can never really make up my mind,
so much to the point that,
at one moment
i might be intent on the idea that stardust as a whole
is a cliché, cliché, cliché,
but at the next,
i may not care at all.

who gives a ****?

it's not about what's cliché and what's not.

it's simply about the thoughts,
the words,
the beauty.

all at once.

but the problem with me is,
i can never really organize my thoughts,
so much to the point that
at one moment
i might be pouring my thoughts into this poem,
but at the next,
my mind might be frozen.
e m p t y .
bare.

sometimes my mind
doesn't like to cooperate.
but as of now,
it is.

and i've decided
that stardust
is a total cliché.

i do not doubt, though,
that it is one hell of a beautiful cliché,
perhaps much like my mind.

(a.m.)