Did I ever tell you that I miss you?
That now when the sun shines, I can't feel its warmth
Because I'm quite sure that you were the sun for me
My own bright star.

I could romanticise the constellations for you,
I really could.
But you of all people know that I was never a
Romantic.
Instead of love letters I'd give you stutters
And instead of flowers I'd give you a crane
Made from the napkin that I used to wipe pasta
Sauce from my face.

Unsurprising is the fact that you left without a word,
Leaving me here to write words about you and
Your arms when they held me,
Even for the briefest of moments.

Sometimes my brain tells my eyes that it was you
That passed the corner by our cafe.
But I'm still convinced that you're a dream and I'm
An insomniac not quite woken up,
Since my eyes are still half-closed.

You could be my Sirius or my Adhara,
Or even their flanks.
After all, Mirzam and Sirius were lovers-
Or siblings, I never did quite get that right.

Forgive me, gorgeous.
I lose my mind around you and talk about the
Stars as if they're your eyes.

That would indeed be the closest comparison,
After all.