
breathe deeply and wait for the soft voice of the universe
to whisper in a delicate hum
the song of my apology.
i am sorry that all you know
are people who have turned into metaphors and meteors
rather than memories
of you.
i am sorry
they dizzied your head with studies of the stars
when you yourself were born a lunar eclipse
a cosmic crescendo
how dare they
forget to kiss your constellations goodnight.
my love
you hold entire galaxies
behind your soft eyelids
i am sorry
they looked but never gazed
past your moonlit skin.
they were astronauts
fascinated at first by your
celestial laugh and how
the twinkle in your voice broke entire walls
of planetary plush
when you spoke about what you loved most
how dare they
be so cruel as to become
that very thing
for a fleeting second.
i am sorry you let them roam
the cracks and crevices of your broken jupiter
unaware
that they brought flags and cameras
in the place of glue.
and so they poured themselves onto your tongue
with their commas and epilepsies
but my dear
you deserve exclamation marks
that jump
between mars and the sun
with passion held tight in both hands.
you deserve question marks
that swirl
and orbit your mind
the way saturn hula hoops her loving rings.
do not
give up
your narrative.
you are an unfolding story
of spirit and soul and stardust alike
with a few chapters too many
on sacrifice.
so breathe deeply and turn the page
fold it down and run your thumb along its spine
feel the turn of the earth
stretch
paint yourself in novels and films
the way the northern lights
paint themselves in sky.
and when the next astronaut comes along
with supernova dreams and a smile to match
they will ask about love
and search for answers on your lips.
and this is when
despite the hurt you know too much about
you will open your mouth
and nothing but astral magic
will come falling out.
— n is for nebula (and my dear friend who embodies one beautifully so)