When I was a teenager I used to daydream of holiday romances. To meet a stranger at sunrise and to hold their hands by noon, and kiss by sunset. To sleep in their arms in a foreign city. To press noses for warmth while star gazing. To frolicking in forests I’d never see again.

Until the day came when we had to say goodbye. And turned all those beautiful moments into the most painful memories that for the longest time I didn’t turn my head to look at the night sky.



And we combusted into a supernova. Our passions burnt so bright that we ended up collapsing into ourselves. Into a dying star. And we laid dormant, sleeping amongst the other galaxies with the stardusts surrounding us. We laid for so long with each other that we became a constellation. The constellation of lovers.