When you held me,
you were chalky with stardust
(from your failed attempts at flight).
You got some on me.
I brushed it off
for I didn't want to fly; I wanted to
stay here,
but Earth was never good enough for you.
But oh! You never flew,
however much you wanted to.
Eventually, you gave up,
letting yourself sink into the abyss.
The light offered itself to you;
you refused it,
shielding your eyes and shrinking back
into a corner,
willing yourself to wilt.
You clung to the dark and
made a quilt out of it,
shaped it to you until it was all you were.
You only wanted your own version of life,
wanted what you know,
nothing worse but nothing better.
I didn't recognize you
but I played along.
I dwelled with you
but the blackness suffocated me;
I wanted to stop the dance with darkness you started
but you wouldn't let me go
so I had to free myself
from your entanglement.
I cut the net you held me in
into ribbons
and fled to the light.

It was only then I realized
you were only a dream.