Stars (or Waiting for Rescue)


I need to stop
wishing on stars.
They can’t help me.
I’m helpless
or hopeless.
Either way,
the stars
can’t save me.
Maybe a lobotomy can
or a sudden case
of amnesia
but not the stars
sitting in their
dark beds of black.
Perhaps they understand though,
how distance feels.
They are lonely,
up there,
so far from us,
so far from each other.
Those stars watch us
and maybe they know
what it feels like
to gaze upon something
they can never have.
They know what loneliness
really is.
So maybe
they can’t save me
but they can be
my companion
on nights where I feel like
I could watch you forever,
on those nights
when I see
all the tension
in your muscles,
the unrest
in your quiet.
Perhaps they can’t save me
but at least they can see you
and maybe that’s
as good as rescue.

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