poetry for the poetic: 5

LIII

he kept a handful of stars in his pockets and rays of sunshine in his smile, a hurricane in his eyes and whole galaxies in his mind. sometimes, if he felt like it, he'd let her have a taste of moonlight, he'd let her reach for the stars, just to watch her fall back down to earth again like a comet, burning from head to toe,
falling
falling
falling for him. her eyes were bloodshot and her knees skinned, but she was lost living in worlds that weren't real, wrapping her fingers around someone who never chose to stay when she needed him to. one day, he'd shown her the sea, leading her in, breaking through wave after wave, until they were so far out she could no longer see the shore. he'd remove salt water from her lungs just to watch her
drown
drown
drown again for him, heavy as a stone, never learning, never changing. she'd suspected it all along, known it down to her bones, that it wouldn't be enough for a boy who had whole galaxies stretching out in his mind to show those galaxies and stars and suns and moons and hurricanes to just one girl and be done with it. but she stayed. she
stayed
stayed
stayed until she finally found that she was tired of reaching for stars she couldn't hold on to, until she realised his touch left blisters on her skin, until she understood that she had galaxies of her own to get lost in and that she didn't need him to show her anything.