I love you.

That's to say,
I sent you a text before leaving for work:
"There's half of an orange on the counter for you"

I am 3.5 steps behind you
You always said you had nine lives
Dear Sylvia, I wish you had stayed
For just one

Dear Sylvia, of all the ways to choose
You create poets who find no art in baking
Though I suppose our ovens
Are viewed a bit differently now

The brownies come out burnt
I write a poem about the time I
Thought about killing myself
but got distracted
reading Sylvia Plath

There's just something romantic about cornfields and 3am
Maybe it’s just the optimist inside of me
But the stars are shining so bright tonight, don’t you think?
They are so bright, the sky is so clear,
and I can feel your hand pressed against my side,
attached like a name
Maybe you’re afraid of the cold too

It was cloudy, the light on the edge of the horizon
Polluting the stars, they weren’t that bright
I feel you pull my body away from me
It’s so strange to feel warm, to feel anything
You embrace the cold

I cannot save you anymore than I can avoid becoming
The same sky I stare at

The breeze dances across my stomach as you bring me closer
Eyes staring into a cold sky
As you listen to me ramble on
About where the big dipper should be
If the stars were bright enough to see it