It’s funny how we look up at the stars
and we marvel at their beauty and light,
even though those stars are all ready dead.
This means that the beauty in everything
is eternal like the sun and the moon.
The constellations of star crossed lovers
illuminate the night with mystery;
so maybe their hands aren’t puzzle pieces,
but hearts are wild, that’s why ribs are cages.
Polar opposites in every single way.
She was a glass half full, he was empty,
she poured everything she had into him
yet he still remained desolate, vacant.
She was not the burst of colour he lacked.