I tried to make my room seem like the stars were twinkling right above my bed. It probably didn’t look so nice, but I did my best and I was happy hanging the lights everywhere.
I did it for you so we can lie down as if we’re beneath the stars. We can never ever have them as close.
I kept them up the entire week; each night I would lay there and wait and hope that the door would open then you’ll lie down and watch them with me again; our argument and anger forgotten. And each night I slept with them on as I realize you’re not coming, my tears making them a blur of yellow diamonds - a mockery of my foolishness.
Today I finally took the stars down. I gathered photo after photo, wishing you’d have seen them one last time before I put them away. I didn’t know where to put the lights. I didn’t have it in me to put them back in the box, so I hung it above my bed and spread some over my display.
Now I watch the ‘stars’ transform into the Christmas lights that they are. A supposed symbol of hope and joy but are merely witnesses to my brokenness and misery.
