I told myself
that you were lying on the stairs
because you were searching for the stars—
lost in the galaxies.

That maybe you fell
trying to connect Orion’s belt with the tips of your fingers.
So when you were looking to the North for a way up,
Ursa Major brought you back down with her claws.
and when the weight of the Northern Hemisphere
was all on your shoulders,
you could not hold it any longer.

I am sure you have looked to the Big Dipper
for its inspiration—
taking the risk despite the fall.
Out of your peripheral,
the seven stars of false hope;
too far.

And instead of connecting your dreams
to form the constellations of a future,
you gather pieces of broken glass.
You let go of your dreams and held onto the bottle instead—

because you could not hold the North Star
in the palm of your hand.