stars

You’ve jumped through all those fiery hoops
Groomed yourself meticulously, hiding those burns
Gotten that blue ribbon that hangs sad in your room like the tulip you found in the childhood fields of your dreams, now pressed
The jaundiced lamp flickers, and from the white tiles you see it collecting dust
And you realize that it's made of the same slick fabric that lined your grandmother's casket

Lint particles and hair follicles fall atop the cheap threads like the first snow of winter
covering the fading inscription as grass clippings do on a gravestone
And before you pass out again,
Exhausted, emaciated, dark half moons sinking beneath your bloodshot eyes
You smile, entrenched in your own filth
And a single thought whips through your mind quicker than that blue ribbon,
soon to be coated by the cobwebs hanging heavy in the corners
“I’ve won,
At least I’ve won.”

The silvery night sky blankets your lone frame as you remain silent and curled
Bright star, have we ever been anything more than white dwarfs?