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)