Dyanna
The sky is full of stars, rhythmically flashing to the universe’s pulse. Heartbeats of the sky. My jealousy of them grows every night. Why can’t my heart beat as bright, constant and strong as theirs do?
A broken heart is meant to be fixed but how can that happen when man after man plays games with it, ripping the scar off each time and poking it to expose the raw pain?
I hear my phone buzz. I reach for it and peek at the alert. A message from 10-for-Me pops up from @RatsCanton. The preview shows: I want to see you tomorrow.
For what? The last three times you wanted to see me you never showed. You just wanted to play a part. I deserve more than a “want”. I deserve someone who needs my presence. Ghosting isn’t new, but dang it if it still doesn’t catch us—the good ones—off guard. He isn’t supposed to be that person, until he is. I won’t be broken, ripped or poked again.
I flip the phone face down and turn my eyes back to the sky.
I can’t give up hope. I deserve a heart that beats with mine. Looking back at the stars, I imagine the two twinkling next to each other being me and my future love. I imagine the possibility of us touching the sky together. Our energy would light up galaxies and the sex—oh the sex would be explosive enough to create a new planet. The annoying buzz of my phone quickly brings me back to Earth with those two unfulfilled realizations. I push the silencer and close my eyes, hoping that my dreams are filled with fantasies that can hold me for now.