You love the boy I let you find,
But he is made, not born, in mind
A crafted mask, a practiced art,
A ghost of self, a split apart

He smiles on cue, he speaks with grace,
But he is only in my place
An echo dressed in borrowed light,
A shadow playing at being right

Yet still you love this polished shell,
The tale I spin, the dream I sell
But if you saw what lies beneath,
Would kindness turn to ash and grief?

If truth uncoiled from under skin,
Would love collapse from where it’s been?
Would you still look me in the eye,
If I told you this “me” was a lie?

You’ve hurt me more than you may know,
But still, I’d never strike a blow
I took your pain, I wore your shame,
Yet dream of flames I cannot name

For what I dream to do, to say,
Would wash your peace like stars away
A wave no surfer’s strength could bear,
You’d drown in tears, stripped raw and bare

You cry at oceans—I at stars,
At nebulae and bleeding scars
Your grief is deep, but not like mine,
I’ve swallowed time, and called it fine

I am not Earth, nor built for ease,
Not shaped by gardens, sun, or trees
I am a moon of Saturn’s brood,
Born of ash and solitude

Among her moons, I spin and burn,
While others freeze and never yearn
They orbit close with silent pride,
I flare with longing none can hide

I am the ember in her ice,
A misfit fire in rings precise
I circle like the rest must do,
But always dream of something new

My gaze is fixed beyond her light,
To Earth’s pale moon in endless night
That single sphere in velvet black,
Whose face reflects the love I lack

I ache to break this orbit’s bind,
To find a home more like my mind
I gaze toward Earth, where one moon glows,
Faint and familiar, through the cosmos it shows

For if I left this frigid ring,
What would my solemn Saturn think?
If I, the ember in her shade,
Defied the path tradition made?

Would Saturn weep, or would she rage?
Would guilt confine me to this cage?
Or would she sigh, and let me fly—
To chase the moon that caught my eye?

it passed me by
only reading about
that cosmic marvel
the morning after
not quite a "once
in a lifetime" event
yet some would say
special enough
significant even
to pause and reflect
on synchronicity
interconnectedness
everything

there was a time
where i might have
been disappointed
to miss a sight
as rare as
they claimed this
occurrence was to be;
seven of our neighbours
visible simultaneously
five with the naked eye
the other two with
the aid of a telescope

but i don't
need to witness
a celestial dance
such as this
pointing uncertainly
with uncertainty
at what might be
one of the planets
to be reminded
that our stars
have already aligned

When I try to connect to another,
I quickly discover,
That our worlds couldn’t be more separate from each other.
It’s not that hard to uncover,
And it makes me wonder,
Are our lives just mindless inside our bubbles?

Overhearing conversations,
Is a fascinating endeavor,
One I would recommend.
Without interventions,
They’ll keep on talking forever,
Without an end.
You may start to understand,
That the world’s quite bigger,
Than we can wrap our heads around.
It may be hard to comprehend,
With all of the triggering,
Surrounding sounds.

I’m in a different atmosphere,
In my bubble,
Waiting to be discovered.
Not yet in the biosphere,
Of another,
That’s a journey on its own.
Watching my exosphere,
As people pass by like comets,
Without a second thought.
A dwarf planet,
Floating aimlessly,
Contemplating,
My atmosphere,
Slowly thinning.

Listening,
To people talk about their lives,
And their strifes,
Totally different all the time.
The pinnacle of misery for any given day to me,
Could be I got a paper cut that caused me to bleed.
But what do I hear occasionally when someone shares their lives?
“Hey, my dog just died…”
Fires off as loudly as a gun,
Breaking reality underneath my feet,
Questioning if they’re just looking for sympathy,
Or empathy,
To comfort them in their time of need.

Our problems can seem so large,
To us,
Yet, comparatively to another,
They’re so minute.
Some people feel like when they wake,
It’s another day just to lose,
While others add to their bruises,
Just what they needed.
Lack of consideration,
Or spatial awareness,
Contributing to,
All of our stress.

Perhaps people are vastly different than me,
On certain things,
For one, most got their driver’s license just as they turned sixteen,
But that wasn’t a personal priority,
I need to become less jittery, first,
One thing at a time.
Most people are far more social than I’ll ever be,
Probably my biggest insecurity,
Is whether I,
Talk too much or too little,
Say anything that’s worth the listen.
Some friends adore going out,
Scouring the town,
And spending time with each other,
And if you don’t, it’s hard to recover.
I want a friendship where the person understands the way I am,
Before the butterfly can fly it needs a suitable environment.

I’m in an alien atmosphere,
Hoping to be noticed,
Hurt when it doesn’t come to pass.
Dreaming about experiencing the biosphere,
Of others,
And making memories that last,
Many years.
Gazing at my exosphere,
As the comets fly past,
Knowing that I’ll find my way at last.
Space has a lot of space,
And statistically and certainly,
There’s a habitable planet for me.
So I can circle it like a moon does,
Form a meaningful bond,
As we both are assaulted by the sun.

Just have to wait,
A common theme of life,
I’ll quicken my sorrowful gait,
Because I want to see what lies in the light…

There once was a martian from Mars
Named Alfț'drônþopo'gorgg'glìån'nars:
     He constructed a spaceship
     And went on a spacetrip
To the farthest, most alien stars.

I didn't know how still
My feelings were,
Till it got Rowdy

Final breath sounds amusing

I know deep down
It shouldn't be

But I've got a dark sense of humour

Chuckling to dark thoughts

Once my charm
Is nothing but harm

That I'm the sun
Or the orbit
With every plannet revolving around

Oh well
With a Shuddering breath

I know better
That it takes 365 for just earth to revolve

And I'm way back as pluto

The moon is 238,900 miles away,
I didn't even know that,
I guess you really do learn something new every day.
But if she loves me to the moon and back,
I love her all the way out to Kepler-438b,
640 light-years from today,
Guess you learned something new too, aye!

In the vinyl, I see Saturn’s rings.
I see them scattered with snowballs, glowing in the oh-so-distant sunlight—
peacefully floating in their orbits,
occasionally saying hello to one another
with a little bump from time to time.

The music blends as the snowballs form;
bigger, greater snowballs that—
once having consumed all around them—
stay frozen in the pitch-dark nothing…
They remain, mute and humble—observing.
And they never melt away.

I snap back—

—back to the vinyl.
How beautiful it sounds.
Not a single scratch really hurts your ear;
it rather tingles the senses.
The scratch of the needle turns the etches into flowers.
Each note is a cloud, and I am floating on one,
drinking the melody deep into my body,
letting it melt me away into water.
I rain down into my chair, and—

—I snap back.

My body tickles as the speaker shakes the air around me.
It liquefies, turns upside down.
The violin is playing…
Oh no.

I forgot about this part.

I see the mirror in your room,
and in the mirror, I see you.
And next to you, I see me.
I am still inside the drop.
And I know that in a minute, it will burst.
It will run down your cheek.
Any moment now.

I snap back.

I snap.

"Darling look! A planet by the moon!
They're so close,
It looks like we used to be.
We are friends,
But is that all you'll ever see?"

I miss when you just talked about planets,
And didn't try to ****** me.

somewhere
along the universal path
a twilight hut

stands alone

where cosmic palms are read
and untimely fortunes are told
by abyssal blackness
in the guise of twinkling
clairvoyants

planets reach out
to touch lost faith
yearning for a claim
to stardom
but the uncelestial zone
yields only
dead broke dreams
that have been missold

inside
the sensei shadows
of physics
whisper
contemptuously
of blaggards that
"couldn't even imagine
how to float
never mind actually
be buoyant"

outside
sub-zero temperatures
make sure their teeth
are heard chattering
as their lips
splutter kisses
upon every
last inch of spacial decay
comets are the remnants
of their spit splattering

© poormansdreams