Wrong Person, Write Love.

Prose 15: How Stars Die

According to books, after a star is born, it may take billions of years to use up all of its hydrogen fuel. That's more than a thousand of lifetimes, you said, and I smiled at that thought although my heart ached silently.

I've always had this feeling that we've met a thousand of lifetimes before, and everytime we did, we've always had that painful ending.

Perhaps, our feelings are like stars born in the same sky, but never had the same fate.

Stars have their own light, and ours both shone so bright-- though of different colors. Yours is blue, while mine was red. People always told how lucky you are whenever they see us, because love was always compared to the color of fire.

Looking at it, mine seemed hotter, but looking back, it felt a lot colder compared to yours.

Just like everything else-- no matter how bright and wonderful they may be, stars have their limits. Once they reached it, their outer zone becomes bigger until they become a giant.

Our stars, just like it was long written in the sky, reached their limit at the same time. It was all over, I thought back then. And even though it pained me to watch how you suddenly turned into someone I never thought you'd be, I remained silent.

Your feelings violently exploded-- looking almost a hundred times brighter than the sun. A beautiful yet devastating supernova, that's what they called it, and in a flash, you were gone. All that's left are clouds of gases and a small dense of mass-- both remnants of a thousand lifetime-love that I've only watched disappearing right before my very eyes.

I was stupid to never notice that you were hurting, because I thought I was the one who loved you more than you loved me.

That was then, I remembered, that for a flame, blue was supposed to be the hottest, with red as the weakest.

I was wrong for the last time around, and that huge impact left me dumbfounded as my feelings shrunk back into small dense stars called white dwarfs-- just like our memories together shrinking into my own version of "what ifs" and "maybes."

They'll gradually cool down after sometime and fade, but will remain forever.

Dead stars, that's what our love was now.

Yours forever gone-- but mine will forever stay.

- Aries Writes

Art from Pinterest.