She

doesn’t want to be a she or a he or be
anymore.
Existence is futile in a world where warm hearts are exchanged for
a cold memory.
He had the key now. And her heart.
But instead of unlocking the mysteries inside of her and them,
he chased other stars from other times forgetting to build their star
story here and now.
Her heart beating true to one rhythm is discarded into the cosmos
like space junk; a speck lost.
I choke on the stars at night and forget
that the stars are waiting for me when my heart is not so hot
anymore
because love here is meaningless and cold.

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