Her eyes are full of stars.
Her hair tangled with moonbeams and stardust,
Her words unfurling from her lips,
Like petals gently, shyly,
Blooming in the spring.
Her skin dotted with constellations of past curses,
Her footsteps light, her smiles wide
But then she blinked,
And the sky was starless
Her words were dry and wilted,
Unbelieving, not hoping,
Her fingers reaching out, grasping,
Longing for contact, for skin on skin,
A gentle brush, a desperate grasp,
Her world is dark and she closes her eyes,
But why does the back of her eyelids still look like the world around her?
The feeling of never being good enough,
The crashing waves, the glinting sun,
Fills her up and clouds her mind,
You can see her shut down in the darkness
You wait and then she stirs,
Her feet unsteady on the crumbling ashes,
Fog unfurls from the heaven and she is lost but she is standing
She finds her way back, her eyes turn from black to the silvery gaze of moonlight,
Her words come slowly now, like once dead autumn leaves,
Her lips trying to find a shape,
The ghost, the reminiscent,
Of a supernova smile.
She blinks,
And when her lashes untangle;
I can see the stars again.


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