Creative Writing, Personal, Poetry, Short Story

Constellations: A poem about dead friends and shitty feelings

We were all young, not even 20 yet. We have a world of potential before us. We have futures...

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We were all young, not even 20 yet. We have a world of potential before us. We have futures that we can’t even begin to fathom. We take shots of cheap liquor every night, and slur our words as we speak about dreams. In my one bedroom apartment we map out our futures like constellations in our imaginations. We- and our futures are as infinite as the galaxies that surround us. This blueprint is the ever changing backdrop of our minds. We see it all the time. Every day. Tessa wants to be a vet so our minds masterfully paint a horse with the stars of our imaginations. I can’t decide what I want to go to college for, and question marks litter the sky, but even the unknown holds light and possibility.  You are an engineering major, so a gear made of stars stretches our blueprint further. We see our futures grow everyday. We make a date to get drinks after our 21st birthdays and a martini glass bursting with stars stretches up across our sky. We want to travel the world and a burst of stars spreads out across our imaginations going further and further until they can’t be seen. Stars spread out to build mountains because we want to hike at the red rocks and to the hot springs. The next constellation is in the shape of a heart, because you fell in love with Juliet and want to spend the rest of your life with her. Every time we talk we make more plans and our galaxy expands. We are infinite. We are untouchable. Our personal galaxy holds hope and excitement. Our galaxy is the only place in our minds that doesn’t hold fear. The constellations shine so bright- like our futures. We know that we will make all of these constellations a reality. We are so young we don’t even have the nervous jitters that tell us our galaxy is too big, and there is just too much to accomplish.  Then comes a day- and we’re not even 21 yet and we start to get nervous. Our constellations are shaking ever so slightly, and we start to think that maybe we dreamt too much, because Our constellations are tangling and falling from the sky. I look for Tessa and when i find her I grab her hand, and we stand together in our galaxy and watch the gear transform into a ball and fall out of our galaxy- you will never be an engineer because you shot yourself in the head. The martini glass bursts- we will turn 21, but you never will- you are lying in a coma that you will never wake up from. The mountains fade into the distance because you will never take another step, so forget about hiking the red rocks. Me and Tessa scramble to pick up the stars and constellations and put them back in the sky, put them back where they belong, but then the heart explodes. You will never kiss Juliet again. The entire galaxy of our plans implodes- because they took you off of life support today. We will never travel the world. Our galaxy is not bright anymore because you are not alive anymore. When we look for our galaxy- nothing is there. The constellations that used to dance in the back of our imaginations are only a memory. It is only something that we dream about- like you, it doesn’t vibrate with hope anymore. It screams against the back of our skulls begging us to dream. We don’t want to dream of a future without you. Me and Tessa stand together in the dark of a galaxy that once guided us, and we look for you in every glimpse of light that passes by, and we wonder how we ended up alone in the dark. One day we will rebuild our galaxy and we will use the stardust from your stars to make the sky sparkle with new dreams. We will use the broken pieces of your constellations to light our way, and this pain, this pain won’t feel so brand new.

Written by Brooke Cowell
The human experience is confusing. I fumble through it with good friends, good beer, and only half thought through philosophy. Profile


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