behind my eyelids
if i had a star for every time i thought about you last night, i think i would have enough to light up the sky.
(not that i would. if i had that many stars i would rather keep them for myself, underneath my pillow. that way i would never be alone at night.)
we were standing outside watching constellations that reminded me of spilled glitter. you were holding your cell phone and what was left of my heart. i think we might have made eye contact once or twice, but i wasnt sure.
instead of talking to you (you left me speechless, you know) i stared at the stars until the little Morse-code dots were imprinted on my eyelids.
i wanted to reach up and grab one of those stars and give it to you, but you turned around and left without saying a word. after you had left, a shooting star fell.
(shooting stars arent the only things that fall.)
you reminded me of December mornings, waterfalls crashing on rocks, fog hugging the mountain tops, and a flock of birds migra