Xymphonie

i. This distance between us is devouring my lungs. I'm left here gasping, trying to suture back together all the broken nights- the cigarette burns in my bedsheets. ii. I'm tracing maps on my limbs, and I'm painting black holes on my palms, pressing them into letters left on my nightstand untouched and unread. iii. I keep telling myself none of this is about you. But I'm reaching for empty galaxies as I try to remember what it felt like to be one of a binary star. iv. Light-years away, and I'm here- just another nova on your ceiling, searching this vast universe for you.