Space obsession, queen confessions.
Some seasons, my sky fills with too many moons. I don’t know when they arrived—only that one day I looked up inside myself and saw them: pale, restless orbs circling closer than they should. Each one moody in its own way. One swells with worry until it feels impossibly bright and heavy. Another waxes and…
We never needed a telescope to find the stars. You and I would lie on blankets in the grass, or on the hood of your old car, or sometimes just on the floor of my tiny apartment with the lights off, and we’d trace them ourselves. Not the official ones—the ones in books with Latin…