Shifting Stars

From this far beneath the water,

lapping waves like a dog’s wagging tongue,

the stars blur and blend,

they create a larger image.

Constellations form and depart with my movements,

something so minuscule impacting

the vast sky,

action, reaction, my sense of control.

The drive home was exhausting,

the sand still in your shoes

gnawing gently at your bare feet,

the sea air making you yawn

until your eyes water

and the world blurs

briefly.

The hot haze upon the streets

feels like home, somehow,

and for a moment you don’t miss the reliability

of the rain, its comfort and coldness

familiar, welcoming,

as the grass grows again.

Tonight the stars will reform before you

but they refuse to shift this time

and instead you study the subtle markings

upon your lover’s sleeping face,

a gentle breeze flirting with the dancing curtain,

skin still tingling

from the sea’s salt.

Those moments now,

like the sand in your shoe,

turning unpleasant, nibbling away.

I used to run my way home

beneath the night sky

to meet your gaze behind those closed doors,

your beauty emphasised in every gentle touch,

but these days

I crumble,

I toss and turn through long nights

turning over to find

that I’m sleeping with my worries,

the ghost you left beside me

a silhouette

haunting, a mark

upon all things.

Star-speckled skies reminiscent of your freckles,

my memories deflating, my love

melted down and dwindling,

those long drives home

so lonely, and forlorn,

control surrendered to a higher power,

cold hands removed from the wheel.