To Mourn a Dead Star

Was it me you screamed for
when the stars fell from above?
They gleamed, they fell forth
and landed in your lap when I threw down my love.
I took my final nap
while you caressed the cosmos.
They burned through you clothes
and kissed your skin.
Did it burn further?
Did you tighten your grip?
Did you let the stars simmer and light up within?

When I shed my tears and bled,
I rained hell from the sky.
Did it surge through your body?
From my own veins to yours?
Did it reverberate through your brain
like church bells banging on your door?
How did you hear me taking my breath
when I had proposed and made love with death?
You were close to being deaf
and being blind to your own pain.
You chose to open your heart
to senseless smiles we share miles apart
now that I've left our domain.

Through your pained yells, I dove to the floor.
The earth and I felt soft,
like the clouds I had merged with before.
I scattered like spores to grow life anew.
I'm flattered to be a part of you,
despite having gone
from holding your hand
to holding your heart
as I remain in unthinkable lands.
Reminisce as you wish,
or agonize until sunrise,
but tell me:
Was I your downpour that shrouded the stars
that filled the ocean and flooded the sea?
Or was I the moonlight that bounced off the sandbars
that filled your face as you smiled back at me?
9