Makeshift Constellations

Our landlord rented us a promise that he kept in his greedy claws so tightly
that was fated for calamity in order to procure the insurance money.

The home I built in my dreams has a crack in the ceiling and a leak in the sink.
The apartment is burning to the ground, not as a phoenix, but as a tragedy.

On our final night together, I felt your chest rise as clean air filled your lungs.
Although you will never be my oxygen, fate allowed me to breathe in your love.
And as the sparks died for you amongst the chaos that ensued,
Did you hear me that night when I whispered this to you?

And as I cried out through this twofold nightmare, my voice cracked like the floorboards
in the home I built in my dreams, only this time, I have lost all my words.

Did you hear my expulsion of frigid air when smoke filled my lungs
and burned a heart shaped hole in my chest that looked like your love?

My body has fused with my burning twin sized crypt,
watching as our embers float away and die out over and over again.
I will still find a way to tell our story from start to end,

even through these sparkling, makeshift constellations.