the midnight sun cracked
open the sky in half.
the spent days oozing out of the crevices
like smothering honey; scorching liquid amethyst
that blisters skin raw and stops air tight.
memories weren't what they were called anymore, but
a cassette that played itself every second over and
i was too much
of a masochist to press pause, for
i would rather evaporate in the heat of the tangible ugly
than learn what it feels like to make brand news.
the window deluded me into comfort, made me sit
on the sill and bask in the poisonous wind,
for the stars were pretty that night; pretty selfish.
didn't want to be looked at so asked the clouds
to kiss them through the light year,
like specks of aurelia smeared over velvet,
protected by a veil.
but the same melted into a repulsive canvas
of tar the very next
second because i remembered
everything that glitters is not gold.
music flowed out of the player and onto the floor
in a shiny puddle, blinding.
making me wonder where all the people who would
want to write a song about me went.
did they collide?
burst into new galaxies before i
even had the chance to feel their skin;
kiss them enamored under the moon?
it suddenly feels like a different dimension,
and i'm not a part of it anymore.
it scared me.
how it morphed right before my eyes.
my own demise; a constellation on fire
the sun fluidizing away into another nebula
far away from mine.
it happened then and there
but all i did was sit and
stare beyond myself, into the magnetic nothingness,
looked at the stars one last time before closing the window
and drawing the curtains shut.
