I wripped open my chest only to find you sitting on my lungs, no wonder I haven’t been able to breathe right these past two years. I reached up to the sky and sunk my wrists into saturns teeth, his memories dripping down my forearms and into my chest.
The stars sang songs to me while I sat next to the moon, brushing her wild hair as she fell to sleep. I miss being a constellation, where my body would shine instead of my soul.
I miss being a star,
My skin is not made to be human.