i miss the moon

its constant drift away from earth bugs me on filler sunday evenings,

and i feel blue bittersweet as i stare at an acid-washed sky,

wishing she would change her mind.

 

i miss the stars.

when i still bumped my head on tables, 

and had to tippy toe to reach shower heads,

the sky embodied clear darkness with freckles of light dotted against its skin—

its black, a familiar blanket

 

when i look up after late night car rides,

the stars blur into fluorescent light

their brilliance no longer brilliant

they no longer live up to their name

 

and i feel a kind of feeling that was in your heart to begin with

a dull ache, a slouched back, a hazed mind

there’s no point in reaching backwards

i’m just not a little girl anymore