College of DuPage's student newspaper | Est. 1967

LOVE DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

September 29, 2016

i miss you, i sigh
because mercury
has been nothing but bare,
i’ve been crying less and less,
but everything is still just a damn tragedy.

i miss you, i wave
because in the distance
i swear i can see you,
in the faint familiarity
of blue and green
that makes our home look
like a painting made
to be shown off.

i can’t find you, i yell
as people exist everywhere,
but there is no you,
they say that the moon was made
because the earth was lonely,
and i wonder if you’re ever
lonely without me.

i’m coming, i say
as my stolen spaceship
rumbles with earthquakes,
fleeing the ground like a
flower being picked,
like a rose handed to a
lover saying ‘ this is for you. ‘

take care of it.

you are not here, i cry
as dust falls through my fingers,
gloves lost to the martian wind,
because not even the robot population
could comfort me now.

i don’t see you, i sob
as i speed past jupiter,
watching comets explode out my window,
creating a hurricane
where it already feels so cold.

i’m coming for you, i yell
as my hand runs the edges of saturn’s rings,
colors of storms twisting and turning —
like the clouds are spinning,
and the planet is dancing.  

the waltz of celestial spaces,
the tango of intergalactic emptiness.

i feel lost, i spill
looking into the depths of blue
as if uranus could drown me any further,
for oxygen is only necessary on the ground.

where are you, i ask
spinning circles around the moons of neptune,
because there are thirteen,
and that has always been my lucky number.
i never found out yours.

i miss you, i say.
the sun is so far gone now,
and i am lost.
pluto is so dark and i am starting to
see the commonalities,
how it’s three am and
everything’s wormholes.

maybe, in another universe,

this worked out another way.

but there are other solar systems,

other galaxies.

there is more warmth

than just you.

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