some time ago, you used to tell me that not all stars were still burning
by the time my eyes could make them out, and it’s a sentiment
i never quite shook off.
sometimes, i think about people the way you used to tell me
about stars. you’d point one out by naming its constellation, you’d
help me find it by association.
we are all amalgamations of everything we touch, everything we hear and
see and feel and relate to and find comfort in. we are a snowball
rolling down a mountainside, picking up pieces of it all along the way.
i’d like to think there’s a lot of you in what i’ve grown to be, but
because of you, i know that i am stardust and air and water and light,
and so are you, and we all return our energy to the world.
sometimes, i think i can feel you strengthening the air, reminding me
that i have to burn bright right to the end if anyone
is ever going to see me as clearly as you did.