July 31, 2013
I gave you the stars.
Galaxies drawn out in my back pocket, held strongly behind my blue eyes
The ones my mother warned me about wishing upon.
On a Monday night I gave them to you.
Filled with my hopes and dreams, years of keeping them in my eyes.
But you wanted more than just tiny dots in the skies,
You wanted planets filled with matter, substance and life,
And you couldn’t hold balls of gas in your hands.
You wanted a tangible gift, you wanted my love to hold and carry.
You wanted something so prominent that it would shine through the day and night.
I gave you the stars and you yearned for more than just dead beams of light, millions of years old,
You wanted the skies that held them.
I couldn’t give you that.
I gave you the stars
I whispered as you left my eyes empty
That was all I had.
When the next man comes along, I can’t give him the stars
I can only give what I have, all thats left of me.
He’ll beg and plead and prode for those shining beams of light you couldn’t hold, the ones that were not enough for you.And I’ll gaze at the dark night above my head wishing I never gave up my own galaxies.
For someone someday will come along, promising susbstance, planets and the sky, only needing my stars to complete them.
But I’ll only be able to give them my black holes, my empty spaces and my trust issues.

You took my sky from me.

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