Do stars get stressed out?
Do they decide they’re worthless,
while the men at NASA talk them down?
And when it doesn’t work
when the plethora of colors parade across the sky
like intergalactic death confetti,
who cleans up the scene?
Hades laughs while Nyx grieves.
“Such a bright star”
“It was my favorite”
“The constellations will truly miss them”
If only you said such things before.
If only you saw their distress,
noticed the shift in the night sky.
If only you let your eyes leave the ground for one second and gazed!
How can you possibly mourn the loss in a nebula
if you can’t remember what it looked like?
You never looked up in adoration
but you don’t, you would never, miss the chance to look up in mourning.
Post the splattered guts for likes.
Selfishness iced in fake empathy.
Save your tears.
I watched a star explode today,
a ball of gas I held dear
It was young; fragile.
Only living for twenty-six years, five months, and seven days
before pouring out in an explosion of color across the sky.
9,652 days after it’s own birth.
I watched a star explode today.