to the stars who listen: poetry

35. for you

I opened myself up to you -
I was an open book in a language only you could understand;
my darkest thoughts written out in cursive, ink spilling from the puncture this unrequited love created in my heart- unfortunately beating,
imprisoned in its decaying rib cage, yet still fluttering at the sound of your name, despite its gradual demise.
I rewrote my definition of love, and my poetry spelled out your name between lines which I could only hope I had translated into the words only we could hear. I really, truly opened myself up to you. For you I unlocked the heavy, chained door inside of me - the one which no one had ever seen behind before. I showed you the remnants of torn, fragile gossamer from which my little self esteem was once spun. I showed you the ashes of the houses which less silver humans than you told me they'd build for me, before burning their promises to the ground. I showed you each tiny snowflake that made up the cold of my saddest thoughts, and I watched your luminosity turn each one into something warm and beautiful. You conjured me fireflies to give me light while you were gone, to ensure I wasn't alone. You held my heart in your warm hands and stars flew from your fingertips, illuminating the darkest of my nights. Flowers blossomed everywhere you touched, hopeful and smiling and kind. How can I write in mere words a person who heals and soothes and makes everything okay? All I know is that at the moment I am undeniably fragile, glass, porcelain. All I think is that you were the first person to give me an entire, crystalline ocean without leaving me to drown. Thank you. I want to believe in forever and I will give you eternity.