A Poem to the Part of Myself I Hide from Sometimes

Before the sky had its eyes

Before the sun was even a concept

In a time when weather was

The only known religion,

You turned away

I saw you cry

But we were before names

Before even

The primal language of stars

So I only watched.

Did not reach out.

But you were beautiful.

Even now,

Burning your own edges.

Still we have drifted,

And I do not tell your stories.