I showed you my constellations and you marveled at their beauty.
I was both filled with joy and sadness because you saw my scars of stars as beautiful things,
but I wanted you to see how each and every one of them were slowly burning out.
How eventually they'd blink out of existence and make my galaxy pitch black.
You said you loved the stars like a child loves their mother and that you felt their burning passion as your own, but never did you say you loved my galaxy.
You are an astounding and adventurous astronaut.
You've traveled far and wide across the universe, finding wonder after wonder.
You've seen stars and galaxies be born and also die.
As time stretched on your love for space grew past infinity.
And yet somehow you stumbled across my insignificant corner of the universe, and for a reason that still leaves me dumbstruck, you stayed.
What am I in comparison to the milky way.
I have no one looking for me through fancy telescopes, or satellites orbiting my sun.
There's flaws in the very particles of my being, and quite likely black holes in my heart.
So again I am torn between love and self hate.
You are one of a kind, so special that all the suns in the entire universe can't outshine you. Sometimes your smile blinds me, and I forget for an instant about what I am.
For merely an instant, I can dream of running away with you to the most outer edges.
You are an astronaut who can fly through the stars, while I am only just a simple galaxy.
When all my stars burn out or my black holes consume me, you will move on.
You've seen stars form, and galaxies die, but never have you noticed how my star system spins for you.
You've got my heart in an orbit around you, but it's just not enough.
One day I fear you'll get sick of me and go adventuring again.
Or perhaps you'll be the one to destroy me completely.
I see the end like a supernova. Bits of time, space and soul collide together as you fly off to another galaxy.
Maybe that one will steal your heart like I couldn't,
or maybe you'll destroy her too.