I could’ve started fires with what I felt for you then. But instead you sat there and watched as I set myself on fire. And I swear to God you smiled as I burned. And the thing was, I had been so busy missing you that I forgot to be angry. So instead, I sat there and burned for a boy who had a bucket of water right next to him. Burned for a boy who laughed at the ashes I left behind. Burned for a boy who didn’t care. I left a trail of burnt flesh and tears, but you didn’t follow it. I bore my soul for you and built cities of words and wonder for you. I had dreams of bright lights and dazzling cities, and I left them all behind, for you. And none of it was enough. Because I wasn’t enough for the the boy that I thought was the sun, the one that I thought had put the damn stars in the sky. I gave up dancing in the moonlight and singing in the rain to fit what you wanted of me. In the end, I believe that I was loud and happy and bright, and you were quiet and lonely and dark. You tore down the cities I built for you, threw my soul in the fire. You couldn’t stand the idea of me having anything. So you took away my moonlight. You took away my rain. You gave me shadows and earthquakes and fear. Fear of trusting anyone. Fear of loving anyone. But I forgive you. I’ll keep forgiving you, for everything you never apologized for. Everything you never will apologize for. I’ve stopped burning. I’m rebuilding my cities, writing my words. I’m getting back my soul, one piece at a time. But you’ll always have one part of me. A piece I couldn’t get back no matter how hard I fought. Because it will always be yours. Even though I’m not. You are black holes and endless night. But me, I am the stars. The ever-changing moon.
I am the sun.