She Stitched Stars Into Her Skin

As a child, he planted a seed

telling it,

"You're all I'll ever need,"

and he watered it every day

and he always used to say,

"You'll be the prettiest rose

that I've ever seen!"

But the water was always so far,

and he could carry it back

only jar by jar;

and his would never live on a star,

it would never laugh from afar,

so he left it there,

in the dirt,

it must have started to feel like work.

But then a storm came

and it never stopped

and the seed that he'd long forgot

sprouted in the garden behind his mind;

and it turns out,

that all this time

...it was never even a rose.

It was a tree,

still barely green,

but daring to be seen

through the tangle of weeds;

a tree he thought to be a curse

for what use did he have

for uncut firewood?

So he left it there, to grow roots

deeper, through the cracks of his mind

weaving their way to his heart

the perfect kindling for a soul;

but while he wasted his time,

tracing constellations into the sky

he let the fires around him

burn down to smoldering coals.

You see, the first flame, she flickered

with every passing wind

and without constant care,

when he wasn't there,

she blew out time and time again;

the second flame, she flared

brighter than any star

and if he'd used that tinder heart,

fed that fire from the start,

he wouldn't have had to look so very far.

The third flame, he forgot

while freezing in the sun

favoring a forgotten fear

that he let come far too near, 

he watched it turn to ice before it had begun. 

Now, the fourth flame had faded

long before they'd decided to begin

so one night she snuck away and stole the night sky

so she could stitch the stars into her skin;

trying to shine bold enough

long enough (pray don't flicker, flame)

that he might notice her again;

but he was standing on rooftops, trying to cope

searching the empty sky

with a telescope (saying come back, remain)

and wondering what made the heavens end.

Author's Note

So yeah, it's been a while.