8/5/2017 8:20am

You told me that we were made of the same matter as stars
and wove me a blanket made of constellations that I wore
when my nights were vacant and unending.
You tilted the sky upside down so that we could gaze into ourselves;
My mirror; my supernova
Exploding into and out of this life.

Your ashes in the ink of my spine were made of the same matter as stars
but too gritty,
Abrasive and smoke scented.
A black hole of “what-if’s” and staying at your sister’s house in paradise.
Her smile is just like yours;
A gravitational pull of comfort and logic,
Except that hers is always asking,
“Why you?”

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