Stay

"I love him. And he knows, but probably not in the way he thinks. I love him, and this is how my story always goes. I love what I cannot have. Or, perhaps, I love what I should not have."

This is how it always goes. I love him. Mostly. And I think he loves me too. But probably not in the way I think. I love him, but he does not love me. I love him, but I can see our projected course and it’s hopeless but I love him. Or, perhaps, I love him but he cannot love me because he loves another.

I love what I cannot have. I love what I should not have.

This is how it would go. I love him. He loves me. But I am galaxies and have no edges so he slips right off. He is the shooting star blinding me tearing my darkness through with his light. We are complete without each other. But we are at home with each other because we are made of the same immaterial shimmer of this universe.

I would envelop him, swallow up his brightness until it shoots out my fingertips. I would drown him, coat him in midnight silk and keep him steady. Or, perhaps, he would slip right through the places where my fingers are laced too tight. Hasn’t anyone told you? Light refracts and skips and never stays. Or, perhaps, it is that light can never be contained, is not a thing you keep to yourself.

I love what I cannot have. Or, perhaps, I love what I should not have.

Just once. Just this once. Won’t you stay with me? I don't want you to go. I don't want you for a moment. I am galaxies and think in eternities. I love you, and my love is eternal and burns bright and constant like the stars in my makeup. You blaze through me and I love the way you light me up but can you burn forever or will you be content with me even as your light goes out?

I am the thing you should fear because I would swallow you whole. But only if you stay. And I am smarter than myself. I am smarter than consuming obsession. Go, be the shooting star in another's night sky. I can watch you from afar.

It's what I do best.