𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒎𝒚, robin buckley

viii.

" (it's astronomy)

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goodbye my almost lover. goodbye my hopeless dream. I'm trying not to think about it. can't you just let me be. i see you there every morning. i see you every night. at times i don't know if it's just me, or you're actually there.

you've got me entwined in your sepia wisps, by which i hang on, clutching for dear life. because you , my lover, are my life, and a life without you is one i shall never see.

her eyes were waterfalls brought to life as her pen worked its way ruthlessly on the ruled pages of the notebook. she was in a different city, a place she couldn't call her own. and the only thing she could was the only thing she'd left behind.

now i'm falling though a hundred skies, each tainted bluer than the last, and i'm not quite sure who to blame as those moments whisk right past. your love is the space that i hope to break my fall, but never does. is it because it's endless, or because it never existed ?

she and her, always almost. again and again. they were always on the verge of almost. never nothing, never something. just someones who were lost in a dangerous game of love and trust.

she made her.. feel, she made her fall. she liked it, her drug. she made her.. drown, she made her weak. she wanted it to stop, her poison.

she still could not fathom how she could live without her love, for she was her lifeline. she was disgusted, disgruntled at herself, the way she was a parasite, nothing without her.

she knew this much, that goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished and the book has already been closed. who, she wondered, would open her book again?

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we're two worlds apart"