drunk on stardust and the thought of you

and the night feels like a summer night but doesn’t feel like summer because you are my sunshine and what is summer without sunshine and do you see the same stars tonight?

the ones littering the sky with the bright moon by their side and I think of how this would be a perfect time to bring the car to the place where it all began and look up, look up for a little while.

though I’ll admit that when you’re next to me I barely look at anything but your face and your eyes and your smile and that feels a lot like I’m looking at the stars anyhow.

they say the brightest stars lead home so if I watch them long enough will they lead me to you?

it’s much the same anyways, missing you, as waiting to see the stars.

lasts all day and then I know you’re there but I know you’re miles away and on some days even the night fails to bring you to me.

you are stars to me because that’s what galaxies are made of and when it comes to you is there any other explanation for how you make me feel the way I do?

 

the lightkeeper

You whisper breathless promises at night like you’re in bed with the stars, and the night swallows you whole in one inhalation, engulfing your trembling body in a quiet desperation, and

the world sits silently while you sleep, waiting for its resurrection, sitting patiently at the bottom of the stairs until the light pours through the windows and breathes air into your lungs again, and

there is a moment in between, an infinitely small pause between the second your eyes open and the one when you are away,  floating seamlessly in a fantasy of reality, and in it you keep the essence of your entirety, and

when the stars fall from the sky like the falling lights that claimed your heart, you are careful with their edges, you are gentle with your hands.