Stardust in September

Look at us, falling through the galaxy. Take me away with you, I don’t know where…but I know you do. Come on, dance through the leaves in this memorable September. We’ll have to part, but not now. I try to find you, but all I can hear is you singing me along:

“I may be lost, but you’re not found

Where our wings scrape the sky

But our feet stay on the ground”

Dive deep, into crystalline caverns filled with sharp angles and soft lighting. Walk on the surface, still thousands of miles from earth, kicking up dust and leaving footprints that never fade. Float above it all, lounge among the sounds of the stars, find yourself in the sky, and lose yourself once again on the journey back home. We’re back here, and as I hesitantly push open your door, I see that you are the one that needs me to take your hand and lead you back to the starry heights that I know you forgot. And gently, oh so gently, I cradle your cracked porcelain heart in my hands and slowly, oh so slowly, bleed for you. One day we’ll be okay, I swear to myself. We’ll leave it behind and watch the stars, and laugh to each other just to hear the sound of our joy. When we get there, I’ll let you know, and before anyone can take the next step, look back. Old pains make new contentment into something you can never let go. We’ll find ourselves in the memories that we had forgotten, plastering old photos of ourselves on the wall, like an extra layer of skin thick enough to absorb it all. Let our structures fall apart. Take off your shoes, and remember what old leaves and fragments of paper feel like on the soles of your feet, on your soul. Breathe in the rain, and walk on the old train rails, through hometowns we have forgotten. But the stars never fade, not like we do. When you remember yourself, let me know, and we can smile shyly at each other as our old routines are revived. You’ll lead me again, up to the old attic that I had sealed off until today. Pick up that old box, blow the dust off, and let the stars out to play around us again. Our hands meet, and we dance again, just like we used to, before I packed our stars in that box, before you forgot how to walk barefoot in September.