Do not think of me as a rock,
my love,
Whose permanence grants the false pretense
of stability.
Rather, think of me as a star,
whose light shines bright in summer,
and on nights when
there is no rain.

Remember that at any point I myself
may turn,
and self-destruct,
And it may take you light-years
to notice,
Or to even weep for my passing.

But know that while my light
flickers out,
And while my heart may stop,
I leave you my stardust,
to forever drift in the galaxy
that was our catastrophic love.