The stars are so visible tonight, as if they decided to exist with more intensity. I lie on the ground, looking at them, just observing the constellations of thoughts fading away, until I feel myself falling into the sky. (Do you remember when we talked about the stars, when the world was full of things yet to say, when time bent and left us alone?)
So many points puncturing the darkness, comforting my pain, that ridiculous presence, so habitual it goes unnoticed.
(The sky was beautiful because your eyes had contemplated it.)
To reiterate its insistence is to cover it with a veil, it is to belittle its meticulous and piercing wound.