The cost of stars

by Christos Polydorou

img_20160427_145526.jpgI bought you stars,
but you complained you could not wear
them.

I named them after you,
but you complained you could not pawn
them.

I managed to bring them to your doorstep,
but it did not change who you
were,

or who I was.
We were burnt
mountains,

frozen seas,
forests covered by
oceans,

at least,
to each
other.

You wanted to be
alone.
Me too.

So, what now?
You, there,
alone?

Me, here, alone?
Never
alone.

The
moment
loneliness

splits
open
like a watermelon

you dropped
on the floor.
Quick, before the ants

come out,
sugar.

I returned
the stars,
one by one,

and got all my
money back,
which is just sitting there,

worthless,
as if it actually
all just amounts to zero,

because I do not
have you anymore
to spend it on stars for.

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