Learning to burn

You move like starlight—

distant, impossibly bright,

a language of fire and silence

I can barely stammer in.

Every word you breathe cuts through,

sharp and weightless,

a constellation I can’t connect.

While I orbit old moons,

trapped in tides that refuse to turn,

you’re charting galaxies unseen,

shattering horizons with each step forward.

It’s not just the distance;

it’s the gravity—

yours pulling everything into motion,

mine stuck in the same slow spiral.

Yet still, I chase.

Not to catch you,

but to learn to burn like you do—

fearless, unbound,

a force the universe can’t help but follow.