He has constellations on his back
A galaxy of freckles and moles.
They map out our journey,
Star-crossed lovers forever.
He talks about the night sky.
Black holes and satellites and Jupiter’s various moons.
Awe glows on his face
His eyes dance.
Stardust covers every inch of him.
He speaks in theoretics and “what if’s”
A nebula waiting -
He does not realize,
He is the universe
The universe is him.
finally something not about you eh? Took me long enough
When I talk about you
People always say to me
“At least he wasn’t the one that got away”
But you are.
The only thing keeping us alive
Is who will find our body
At the end of it
happy birthday to me i guess
Our talks of the sunset
Were poems themselves
i still think of us
My body still searches for you
In a sea of bedsheets and stuffed animals.
I try to mimic the warmth of your arms around me.
I, once again, fail miserably...
Just like I did when you packed up and left.
My hands sleepily clasp at nothingness.
I am half asleep,
Just at the stage before waking up,
Desperately trying to find any semblance of you.
I was always told my insomnia was the reason for my lack of rest.
But what do we call it when I can not fall asleep without you beside me?
God I miss your body beside me, it was home if I ever had one
Do you want to **** yourself,
or are you just bored?