It happened slowly,
but we finally
decided that happiness
is the part of the
movie where everything tragic happens
but everyone moves on anyway.
So meet me underneath the same sky
that bled with your heart
once you realized no one was coming
back for you after all,
and let’s look for the stars that stayed.
I’ll name them after the moment
I found you.
My robin song,
my springtime siren.
I’ll love you until I forget how to.
And then I’ll fall like my knees aren’t already bruised
from doing it,
and I’ll remember why you’re
worth the ache.
his name is made of stars,
and though the floorboards
of this tortured home
look like rotting teeth
and the scratches on the walls
match the ones that never heal on your chest,
a criss cross of wounds
that are your reminders,
(that he traces over your shirt
when he thinks you aren’t paying attention_
the soft sounds of his footsteps
makes the dim light
a little easier to bear.
the sounds he leaves behind
long after he is gone.
they tell you
in a tiny lecture hall-
in a place where no one will remember
the grey boy with his stone heart and wolf smile-
that long after a star dies
you will see its light
because the world does not move
at the same pace we do
and distances are much greater
than we perceive.
when you are curled under a tree
with death on your heels
congealed like the blood on your hands
you look up and wonder
if you are feeling the light of a star
that died long ago.
Tonight you’re thinking of cities under crowns
of snow and I stare at you like I’m looking through a window,
You wanted happiness, I can’t blame you for that,
and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy
but tell me
you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.