we formed the same way.
my heaviest atoms combined
and 93% of my mass rose
from fragmented dreams and stardust.

I may be 817 light years delayed,
but the only formula
combining my time and
your energy is
power,
and I have always been delicate.

crafted by fragile, gloved hands,
we are similar, you and I:
you find yourself a Munsell blue
and my blood pumps sapphire;
your isolation is negated
by your companion stars
and I fall in deep, platonic love;

your purpose is collapse.
you desire nothing more
than to become
a supernova,
returning to the dust
from which you originated.

we were made fragile and frenzied;
too far apart to survive.
we formed meteorically,
unstable, shining reverently
while fleeing to our
ugly death.

as my insides crumble into carbon,
I can’t help but wonder if
when I implode, my ashes
will scatter into your orbit.

our return to interstellar dust
is inevitable. inertia will ensure
we meet.

the space between us
is cold and breathtaking,
driven by four quadrillion miles
of metalloid-ridden radiation.
overlooking the disconnect,
your friendly glow still permeates the winter sky.