ASTROGIRL

１ | ｌｉｇｈｔ ｙｅａｒｓ ａｗａｙ

┏ʻ ° ⌜永遠に ⌟ ° ∙┓

┗∙ ° ⌜ 永遠に ⌟° ʻ┛

Oh,

as t  r   o   g  i rl

tendrils of neptunian

graphite grow from your

scalp like moon ivy, slipping

past your skin and marking

unaligned constellations over

your sun burnt skin. As

you float over satellites and

debris your crumbling hair leaves

trails of asteroids behind.

You are lost, astro girl.

At the end of

the millennium you

are so exhausted that you

eat two solar systems in one

go, too heartbroken to

wipe away the molten

suns dripping down your chin

(Your lover used to do that)

Your eyes a dull

shade of gray-flecked

blue, made of warped and

shredded space fabric,

littered with the dust petals of

a garden that was once

shared with your lover. Your

eyes crush intertwined

galaxies and your tears extinguish

suns with one acidic drop. Once,

your eyes were portals to

new galaxies and laws of

chemistry. The big bang

occurred from the wind

created by your starlined

eyelashes. You expanded the

universe with one

blink and wiped crushed neon

blue stars along your

eyelids and lips.

But oh,

as t  r   o   g  i rl

now your mascara runs charcoal

blackholes down your

scarred cheeks,

and the stars in your 

eyes are light years away.