Shooting stars shine bright
while they fly through the cosmos
ascending to the highest heights

But all that goes up goes down
And the highest pay the biggest price
For as they once had glory, and world-wide renown
Now they have only fragments of the perfect life

Crashing down forgotten,
spiralling away
Our bodies with sickness rotten
our minds withering with decay

There is bit one thing that can save us
One thing between us and the noose and rope
The brightest shining star of all:

☆Hope☆

What good is light for the stars,
when the stars are blind, my love?
If stars were to trade their fire and bright
to see for just one day and one night,

would there still be light, my love?

Still, how can stars ever see,
if others don’t sacrifice their sight?

Then—
can you count how many would be
willing to do it for others,
and be the ones we truly love?

My eyes point above
the sky is filled with love
the star blaze so bright
My gaze held to the sight

Looking at the covered sky
watching stars as they fly
swirling mix of purple and blue
creates a fantastic veiw

Wonder roams in the air
and a halt to the warfare
the heart began to expand
as I reach for this dreamland

Starlight lights the trail
to this fairy tale
This distanced land of art
that's drawn close to my heart.

soon the pastel stained sky went away
clouds turned pink as night becomes day
but I'll never forget the night of stars
looking out at the oceans sand bar

And when I look at him, I just wonder,
Was existence always this beautiful?
I wish I could slow down time and simply stare
At the personification of a star
That stands so effortlessly in front of my insignificance.
I wish I could touch you
But alas,
Flesh burns in the presence of the sun.

a book titled the comfort book
carries silver-tongued truths disguised as preachings offering some peace.
turns out reading what's already known
is like seeing the result on paper—
having exclaimed, i won't believe unless it's shown.

can i slip in, as a matter of fact,
the moon is suing me for emotional damage
and all the pressure i've brought upon it, forthwith, with immediate effect?

she left a letter this morning while leaving
to hide in her contrary's presence—
a cease and desist nailed to the door of my self.
she claimed i'd stared too long,
longingly enough she’d started to feel bare,
and seen me stark naked as i whispered my dire lies to the night air.
she felt used. perhaps i committed a crime.
so i admitted, and asked for apologies.

except i was sent a summon,
to present myself and the plead-not-guilty note.
the stars—she put as the jury,
the night sky her lawyer,
the sun as the judge—he held fury.

i presented myself, humor disguising my truth,
but when they brought the memories to the witness box,
i knew i was done for—eloquently misjudged and overlooked.

had to take an oath,
but they lied under it even.
promised nothing was wrong.
i saw right through their plotting.

i aimed for the time reversing,
pleading guilty, admitting innocence.
my shadow whispered secrets i haven't lived yet—
and they brought her to cross-examine:
no one else but my imaginary friend.

she was mad.
mad for being forgotten and left.

so i did the next best thing:
tore my skin, let her scavenge through the inside.
she felt for the way my veins pulsed,
and admitted i was right.
speaking the truth, your honor,
i smiled at the moon,
but felt guilty for not seeing it sooner.

the universe had glitched—
whenever i cried, it glitched,
sent down a star to wipe my eyes dry.
in doing so, the stars suffered,
and the moon, without her supporters, lost her glimmer.
she lost her friends, as i lost my own.
and no, she wasn’t angry—
just a bit tensed, for she'd seen what happened to my hope.

the lawsuit resulted in me being freed.
i stood up, walked over, and gave her a tight hug—
the trial of chaos, and of giving life to non-existent hope.

she handed me the book of comfort,
written in white on a black page.
it glistened.
the often misplaced truths hide in the bright.
so accept them as you may—
they could be sour, bitter, expired to taste,
but breathing in the venom is one way to make sure
you don’t repeat the same mistakes.

and so this was my tale,
held in the celestial court.
i missed everything—except that i was forlorn, not too long ago.
i still sit at nights and stare at her,
but this time, she lends her own shoulder.
the stars scribble it down:
surrealism meets emotional rundown.

ominous as though it might seem,
this fits like a verdict-stamped
"not guilty" in my very being.

we come from the stars
that's what we were all taught
we're made of the same atoms

and what if i give color to these words?

we're not only former stars
we are also the sea, the paper ship, and the boat
we're following all the patterns
in the kaleidoscope of the world

but what if in us, as humans,
the content remains
and what changes is only the form

i am not afraid of dying
because when i die, i will finally come home

i told you "good night, i love you".
yet
i am not sleeping.

i am listening to the stars sing a song

a note
for every time i have thought of your fair, blush-drunk skin and
sweet, tender soul
melting and mixing with mine at the brush of fabric and shoulders and loud laughter in a space too public.
but i don't care.
i don't think you do either.

it might take four shots of ***** to feel that way again.
but
i only need to see you smile
and i know next morning i'll have a lovestruck hangover
and be changed for the next week.

this is the reason why
we should never, ever get married.
unless
this is simply what no one ever told me about real, raw, love
that hits you like a train
the cargo is sugar
bleeding red roses
and now i don't have to buy twelve at the store for nineteen ninety-nine.
first autumn chill freezing my toes inside my shoes while i wait after knocking at your front door
(we're going to the nice restaurant downtown.)
waking up to a tornado warning at five AM and my first thought is if you're okay,
opening the kitchen windows to the smell of fresh rain and you're texting me pictures of the rainbow.

falling asleep at long last

and at long last dreaming of you.


the stars are singing a song
and in my dream, curled up close next to you

i am singing too.

my everything 7.17.25 (6:08 pm / 18:08)
what did i say when you told me everything?
nothing?
everything, too?

is is even important to remember?
or too important?

so
what will you say when i tell you
everything

all my truths and so then all my lies
what will you do?
when you know, when you know, when you know
that you have known nothing
almost all along?

i'm sorry really flipping ******* sorry
i hope you don't mind i stole your words
i hope you don't mind i stole your trust
i hope you don't mind i simply could not make myself tell you

that everything

so
what will you say?

i suppose
let the stars speak for us.