Broken
They say when you look at stars, you’re looking back in time. I wonder as I sit here, lifting my face to the faintest star twinkling in one of the darkest night skies I’ve ever seen, if she was looking at the same star, years ago– another broken version of me, with the same tear-streaked cheeks. Does the moon remember what she whispered to it when her heart couldn’t hold more? Was she talking to me through the night sky that stretched over our heads from one year to three others? But I know, like the starlight I bask in, she’s come a long way too. Then the faint star– my faint star, flickers much brighter than I thought it could, as a meteor streaks the brilliant violet a soft silver, and for the second time in four years, I feel my heart resonate with something more than just the moon.
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