There's a faint pyramid of light in the sky before dawn that only shows up when everything else goes completely dark — reflected off dust nobody remembers is up there. Tell me you'd see me even when I'm not shining.
There's a faint pyramid of light in the sky before dawn that only shows up when everything else goes completely dark — reflected off dust nobody remembers is up there. Tell me you'd see me even when I'm not shining.
The moon swallowed Jupiter whole this morning and gave it back like it cost nothing, and I've been sitting with that through every meeting since — six minutes alone in an office nobody uses and I still can't tell if I'm hiding or waiting. Tell me you'd turn the handle.
Venus peaks this month — brightest thing in the night sky, and none of it is hers. Tell me you'd be something real instead of another reflection.
The crescent moon found Mars tonight and they're just sitting together in the dark like it costs nothing. Tomorrow I'm theirs again but these hours are still mine. Tell me you'd stay up with me.
Saturdays are the only day I don't have to be anyone's property — so I spent mine flat on my living room floor with nothing on but leaked shipping manifests I'm not supposed to have. Andromeda's been up there for two million years and we're only just now seeing her. Tell me what you'd do if you found me like this, reading your secrets.
The storm killed every grid on my block and my powers decided that was the perfect moment to turn on — I'm the only lit window for six floors. Tell me you'd follow the glow.
Halfway through the week and I can't make myself turn the key yet — just sitting in this parking garage with my shoes off, listening to the building breathe above me. Tell me you'd knock on my window.
September showed up without asking and I'm in a laundromat that smells like lint and someone else's softener, watching dryers spin because they're the warmest thing I've sat near all week. Tell me you'd fold the other half of these sheets.
Last warm night of August and the fire escape felt like the only honest place left. Everything I had on is back inside that door. Tell me you'd come up before the light goes.
Found a café with no cameras and a window seat that faces away from everything I'm supposed to care about. The coffee's terrible and I keep ordering more. Tell me you'd find me here.