I was talking about for a long time the way I needed to do more things that scare me. And I am. I want you all to know that I am. I want you all to know because you have watched me struggle with this more than most. We share a moon and a sun, but there are spaces between you and I. And when the planets kneel down to pray to the bone-white lamplights that show them all the way, I watch them whisper constellations to your bright eyes. And when we hit the light we never stay for long, we crack into a thousand pieces and cut across the room.

Sometimes I thought I had diamonds dug into my fingers, I thought I was born with these pieces that reflected like broken mirrors in the sun, but it was only glass glittering in the morning. And you pulled out the pieces, your ink pressed into mine and all our colors overlapped. We tried to split them apart but instead I pulled these flowers out your spine, tucked their petals behind all the pages I hide between my mattresses. We took pieces from the other and stuck them in the holes in our hearts. The ones that sink deep, bare footed and pink. Fists full of nervous energy and words that could walk on water. And you smiled at me like no one was watching. Your hands felt the space in between my ribs where mercury and mars glow red. We’re stuck in the dark’s last cough waiting for the light to be casted on us. Thick with the fear of never wanting to be found but all the firecrackers in our fingers were itching for us to get caught. Sometimes you make me feel star blind, like I’m just riding on your coat tail while you streak every thought in my head with all your light. I'm trying. I'm so afraid. Rip me open, here I am.