Constellations light up the inky sky. Each with a story of their own to tell. All connected through seeming specks. What is written in the stars is as old as time. So how can I doubt that which shines as the story of us unfurls like vines.

My heart longs for something that I can not yet grasp. It aches in my chest, and down to my fingertips. Reaching for something that is not yet in sight, or might never be.

What am I supposed to do when my heart begins to break at the thought of you.

I am scared. Scared of losing you. Scared that I may have already lost you. Scared that things will never be the same between us. My heart aches at the thought of you gone from my life. I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize what you meant to me. I understand if you hate me for it. My mind and heart are forever too late. Too late in feeling, and too late in knowing.

I'm sat here in ruins.
Ruins of the earth, and ruins of myself.
Which one is worse? I cannot yet tell.

Your comfort is too comfortable.
Suffocating even.
I need air to breathe,
but the box you hold me in is as solid as the love you say you have for me.

Not quite black, not quite blue, but more of a hue in between. Sprinkled with glitter, oh how it shimmers at a glance.