honey

I pull down stars late into the evening. I dismantle a galaxy; it has long since lost its shine. Some tender Mom or Dad had meticulously placed each celestial being on the ceiling once upon a time, to help their baby sleep. “The night is not so dark, little one. There is is always a star to wish upon.” It takes me quite a while to pry the loving gesture out of the stucco’ed sky. I demolish planets and comets and feel like a malevolent god. Out the open window down the street under the moon and mewing through the…

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