Once upon a time,

we would lay beneath the clouds

and I would count the stars in her eyes

glittering like diamonds on a velvet night sky.

If I could keep laughs in jars,

I would have bottled two hundred of hers.


But what happens to stars when they reach the end of their lives?

They die.



when I search her eyes for any trace of the sparkle I once cherished,

I find nothing.

The stars in her eyes have all burned themselves out,

exhausted themselves to the brink of death,


just like her.


I scream out to the sky in agony,

“May you be condemned to hell and back

for stealing the stars that made her eyes glimmer away from her.”

I vowed to tear the very heavens apart

for allowing such an offence.


I cry out in outrage

toward the ones who dared to douse her fiery spark,

“Damn your infertile minds, damn you to the hellish flames,

where your bodies may burn just like her mind

for being so indecent as to shatter the light within her.”

I promised to tear her enemies limb from limb for breaking her,

but I could do nothing about the demons in her head.


I howl in anguish at myself,

cursing myself for allowing her to destroy herself,

impaling myself


and over

               and over

                              and over

on this blade of remorse and misery,

telling myself I would never atone for my wrongdoings.


But she,

despite all the battles she fought and the scars she bears;

she cradles my head in her arms

as I weep into her chest

and consoles me.

She was always there for me,

even when I could never be there for her.