the way the stars fell from the sky,
made the grass look like it was full of fireflies,
right before it burned away,
and the fire left nothing in its wake,
and the sparkling gleam was drowned by the fire,
and the stars lost their claim on beauty.
Insecure, they ran and hid
hoping that rabbit holes
could hide the fact they now seemed dim,
because of how the fire burned your corneas,
and your heart,
so now, you are unseeing and unfeeling,
and impossibly coldcoldcold.
and when the grass grew back in the summer,
you make believed you loved another,
because it seemed a tad bit better,
to lie to the universe rather than your mother.