musings of a flighty teenager

naps.

do you tire of me?
4:00 am nights are far from us.
the days of enthrallment seem so long ago.
night i no longer trust.
the stars are meant for sleeping under,
but now we sleep during the day.
under plastic stars that glow from chemicals,
false and poisoned, in their own way.
and if we are made of stars,
like Carl Sagan once said,
we are no different from the chemical composition
from these stars that have always been dead.
the naps are more and more frequent.
our time speaking is short and bittersweet.
please tell me this isn't your way
of saying you're getting cold feet.
these phony plastic models
of violent nature in our sky
are more relatable than you might think
for a comparison of you and i.
the evolution of a relationship is very strange
like the creation of a new star;
things build and build and build and explode
until particles are knocked apart so far.
there's only so far you can make it
until a black hole swallows you.
but, breaking news--my heart is one.
and it will swallow me, too.