the last words of a dying star

I was watching the white waves simmer under the moonlight,

And a distant memory I had almost forgotten washed up on the shore.

The summer sky scattered stardust above my head, and my heart began to pound

As I picked up the shell that held memories of the time I spent with you.

I wanted them to stay forever, so I looked for a star large enough to contain them,

And plucked a red one from the pomegranate tree in the sky.

My fingers split the star in two, bloodying the hands that once held your heart;

The juice spilled out, turning some lucky grey sand grains into vivid rubies.

I placed ‘us’ in the hole I’d carved out, although some memories had already eroded by the quick tides of time,

Still, the star filled with salty evocations, and swelled up at the sheer amount of them.

But, like a healing wound, the swelling softened, bruising the inside of the star

A blackish-purple so dark I couldn’t see much further past a few surfacing memories.

I plucked out a gold one that shone so excessively I felt obliged to do so,

And she told me of the walk she took with her, along the wild path of the sand.

Just two years ago, they’d skipped like children, hiding behind the moon on a midsummer’s night

Before the moonlit waves kidnapped her love, and washed away all her affections.

The cracking coast, the rough beach breeze— the tide was rolling in again,

Waves dulled down fresh rocks, wetting my arms as I held the memory tightly in my palms.

All the moon laden waves had returned again! I replaced my thought back into her crimson case.

I swallowed the star whole, and ran to my room, sinking hot tears into my pillowcase.

The last words of a dying star.