What you forget, is that sometimes I believe you
and sometimes I love your lies just like the truth.
How carefully you cover up your scars,
though love feels like the outline of a bruise.
Nothing has ever been born that didn’t break,
so why should you be less, or be ashamed?
One night, you stopped me and pointed out stars,
worried that they would fade.
“Some of them,” you said, “are already gone
and we’re seeing the light that remains.”
I said, I didn’t believe the stars stopped burning
and somehow, they must always go on.
You laughed, when you could have argued
and so easily proved me wrong
I remember, you said, “Let’s go inside.”
and how lightly you kissed me then.