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By Kayli Wren
Tomorrow is composed of leaving:
I’ll pack my things and look into corners to make sure,
make prolonged and silent eye contact, hug someone, and not say goodbye
Next week is littered with memories I’ll rehash
again and again because I know they will fade
like scraps of paper that fall from my pocket as I walk away.
I’ll remember you, I promise.
I’ll remember until I forget
We swung to the stars and caught fireflies in our mouths as we fell.
We wondered what stardust was made of,
laid on our backs in the grass to form our own constellation
and it hurt so much we made each other break
into something more whole
There will be a moment in a month from now
that will feel like running to catch up to something
I will never grasp with all my fingers.
I’ll lie in a bed with you and your skin will feel temporary
and the air, filled with not-noises, will sound like a countdown.
I’ll remember not saying goodbye and wonder why we hurt ourselves
I will freeze myself a year from now.
Time can’t hurt me and nothing can touch me if I’m ice.
I can think about blackness and blankness and dark matter
and nothing can reach me if I’m on fire
In two years or ten, I will sense the memories that fell from my pocket.
None of these seconds right now will be remembered as anything more than
a few snapshot images face down on the floorboards:
the ones that pop into my head most over the years
and some hazy movie scenes as seen through the foggy glass of a car window in winter
as people make love inside
In fifty years, I’ll plant roses in my backyard,
watch someone I love read plays,
talk a little more and think a little less.
I will sleep under the covers with him,
feel his skin as I watch the night beyond a window
In ten thousand years, I will be in the cosmos.
My fingers will be specks of stardust mixed with the lives of fireflies and lovers.
I will orbit flaming rocks and people will take pictures of my beauty using space telescopes.
I will be put in a jar, one that was supposed to hold peaches.
This jar of stardust and forgotten love and hammock naps will rest on a kitchen counter,
placed there by a girl whose tomorrow is composed of leaving.
#Unreal #Poem #Stardust #Cosmos #Cryogenics #Future #Ice #Time #Space
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