Missing him throughout long weeks puncuated by long sleeps and fingers crossed, I still long for him
I often look at the moon and wonder what the astronauts think about it, that is, when they are standing in its backyard. I often dream of walking along the brightest edge of the moon. I count stars like he taught me to, searching for The Big Dipper and Virgo. I dream of consellations and far-off planets on days when he is too far away for me to touch him, to catch his warmth.
I could never count on the universe to hand me a wide-eyed moon that expected nothing of me.
i haven't finished much of what I've been starting. Skipped my last two writing classes and regret one job interview; ten dollars an hour is the price of my soul.
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