The constellations above
Are the same,
Even when I gaze under
a different light.
I still take my coffee
Dark blonde:
Light, sweet, but bitter enough
To wince.
I spend my days, still,
Preparing for beginnings
To no end,
Praying for a chance to
Rest myself
In something.
I sleep in the crook of
My own arms,
Peacefully,
Shrouded by God's desire
For me.
I love,
still,
In spite of hate.
In spite of you.
I almost lost these things
By giving myself away,
Piece by piece,
Only keeping what was necessary
To fight again tomorrow.
Now I know
That it pays to be
Selfish.
