What are memories made of? I try to rummage through the stardust in my head and I find galaxies made just for you.
My memories were formed from your fingertips brushing against my cheeks, and the heat of your breath against my neck that sparks fires in my soul. There's an orange sun the same colour as the sky the night we sat up on your rooftop, the night you looked to me and said that there were no such thing as soul mates until the day that I found you.
You are a supernova and I am nothing but a rock on the moon. There are constellations that shine almost as bright as your smile and shooting stars that fly across the night almost as fast as my hear beats when I look into your eyes. Your voice was a beam of light that lit up my life, and now it seems i'm drowning in darkness. I can call this existence at best. I would sell my soul to once more lay my head against your chest, but it is broken, and the devil doesn't want my tears.