Posted in love, poetry

Starlight

Starlight   There’s a time of night that slices bravery into pieces, and maybe those are the stars, just broken bits of your soul flickering like beacons calling to your physical body, just pieces of your heart figuring out how to keep shining  when the expanse of the universe stands between reuniting you  and those lonely bits.  And somehow your eyes keep twinkling in those hours right after dusk, when the street lights ease into consciousness, illuminating the shadowed world around, reflected in the damp whites of your eyes, the great big world swallowing your courage to face the dark, to face tomorrow  when the stars above seem so far away.  I’m standing still,  looking up at those pieces of me, the freckles of the sky, and I’m thinking about how random  they’re scattered, no sense of alignment, chaotic, like settled confetti, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever find all those pieces,  those bits of bravery lost to the clouds.   And I keep thinking maybe that’s why I’m terrified to give my heart away,  scared what would happen if the stars started to move. I wish I could close my eyes and see a map of where they’re headed, those bits of me wandering the universe, waiting, but nothing’s there behind my lids.  —Leanne Rebecca

It’s an Ingrid Michaelson night tonight.

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