velvet supernovas folded into squares and tucked into coat pocket lining for safe keeping. not flowers, but petals; individual elements spiraling into existence and out of it with equal subtlety.
the inky sky dotted with pinpricks of light is all a ruse, a ghost of what used to be.
if all stars had fallen from the heavens and caved in like i'm caving for you, we wouldn't know.
supernovas remain secret for years, as i've tucked away my feelings inside my jacket lining. but you can never know. or everything would fall apart.
you tear at my hull, knock at the portholes in my starboard. always asking something of me.
it's too much to maintain. you press up against me from all angles, leaving me no choice but to crumple inward.
hydrostatic pressure, they say. osmosis and diffusion, they say.
i'm alive, i whisper, but no one can hear me. for i am nothing without you, and that is what i was afraid of.
you crushed me. shattered me. you beg for forgiveness, toss casual promises at my feet, but i turn my face to the breeze.
i won't cave in. you can't make me implode that easily.
supernovas are beautiful things, but they leave voids in their place, sucking others into their grief. you won't get that satisfaction. and i don't want to hurt you anymore.
hold pressure to stop the bleeding, they said. the wound can't heal unless you hold pressure.
but i've been holding
and holding and still
it stings. i bleed. i haven't healed.
will i ever?
but, the only way to stop collapse is to relieve the external tension, the stuff threatening my collapse.
you. you won't rupture my sail, blow holes in my stern.
i won't be a fading wound of light, miles away from those i love. i won't.
which means letting go. you'll sail your ship; i'll sail mine.
but the collapsible stars in my coat pocket remind me
of the traps that you set and i stumbled into.
and i thrive in your absence.