I’ve been reading a book recently that makes me think of a friend

It's about assault

Most stories have a fairytale ending

With a path of intertwined stars leading the reader on into the blissful ignorance of what they think is resolution

And the hands reach out to pull you into a one-way street where the cars all seem to dodge you

Like warm water flowing effortlessly through the cracks in the walls of your consciousness,

overwhelming you with a feeling of content

But the way that it's shown in the pages and through the way the words are spoken inside of your own mind doesn't reflect what happens on the outside

And I know that it's hard for her to follow the stars so she seeks the constellations

And I know that the cars speed by faster than ever so she takes the path no one's been before

And I know that those walls that she built for herself are sealed shut so she boils the little water she has just for that partial feeling of normalcy

And I know that her book grows harder to open every day and she tells me, “it’d just be easier to burn it”

And I don't know what to say

So I sit in silence as we raise our heads to the night, watch the stars intertwine, and make our own constellations