Clutching Shooting Stars

I wanted to believe you when you said there was no such thing as Hell. I wanted to believe you when you said that pain was just an illusion and that I could find eternity in the the eyes of a cloudless sky; You always said that those slowly fading blots of light were souls passing on to the next experience, “Just like us.” I found a distant comfort in that. But I always have to feel, in the moment. I want, so desperately, to be able to clutch the essence of anything of substance. And not have it yanked away by the thunder- raucously trembling the world behind my eyes. So, I take my lighter and strike it. I watch the fire dance until the heat makes the shroud glow- and drive it into my arm and sink into the cradle of wretched comfort that you must have never discovered. I’d hate for you to see me like this. Writhing. Laughing, on the edge. With tears like falling stars, almost casting shadows across my cheeks with their haste. This. Is the only way. I have been able to center, my storm. And I can never get all the clouds to go away. But, I try. I really do. To be, more like you. Even though you’re just another shooting star, casting its shadow across my careworn visage. A memory, that I can barely hold onto. Burning its way into my perdition. -James Kelley 2019