On a shore in the freezing cold, I launched my heart.
Written on the side were the earth, the moon, a sprawl of stars that make the shape of spilt milk above my head. 2000 years, approx, in the past.
On the other side is the name of my fellows who also cast off. Words like kindling on paper lanterns. We light all four corners and lay our hands on each other’s intentions. We press together from the wind. It is not, in this moment, our friend.
In the sky, our hearts become stars.
Even still, occasionally — my mind becomes dark. And when darkness is without moon or milky way — I think of you.
Old friend, missing and changed.
We were balanced once, like yin and yang. Until we tightened and tuned too tight. The strings broke and the middle way between them — lost.
Now, I wander streets at night and look at clouds and think about everything.
I wonder who eats your vinegar these days, or if you have completely forgotten the taste.
Who reads your poetry, late into the night? Listens to the sound of your voice singing any song you choose while they fall asleep?
Who wishes they were brave enough to sing along?
These aren’t answers I need for any kind of closure. These aren’t answers I need at all. I don’t ask because I think anything about you or me or us. I ask only because, like blowing bubbles in a bathtub, I think to.
I think about everything.
And the fact that you never answer makes me feel better. Because if you did, what would you say?
Nothing fitting to the world now inside my mind.
And with that, I’m alright.
I have come to the end of a long road and this year is the beginning of the new. There are new bodies in the celestial pool, old stars dying and their supernovas are shaking me, breaking orbit, and flinging me out of the solar system we once made.
I am a comet, loose. The feeling is of drifting off, but I know the truth.
I am waiting to be pulled.