Shall we write a short love story?
Perhaps the shortest one.
There was me, there was you.
The stars aligned so we could meet.
You were born with a hole in my shape,
And I named my emptiness after you.
For one fleeting, timeless moment—
Or maybe more, maybe aeons—
Your shape filled the hollow places
In my universe and made me whole.
And then you slipped away with the stars.
But sometimes I trace the emptiness
In the sky, shaped like distant constellations,
And wish for you to remember
Our fingers entwined.
That’s all there is to love.
