Like clockwork— awaken, rise from the dirt, fallen star— alone in the sky that is your world except for one brush the vibrant pink veil aside so you might see her lying there, form softened with slumber white hooves— caked with the world's broken flesh hide your coveted status reel within, at what you've become, sleeping no longer in the dirt reach out for your blue companion and wake her as well she is not as scared as you smile upon her, and bestow this light in the dark that you fear her face is smudged with the dust that cakes her quilts little child, as bright and alone as ever, she reaches into the bags next to her— pulling a brush from the tattered brown fabric, buckle dull with mud you do not tell her your fear little voices whispering in the depths of you, you smile shakily, having yet to master perfect composure and in the dark you count the strokes the brush makes in pale blue that always finds a way to shine true unlike, little child — princess no longer — unlike you you build your mask with care with whatever you can gather from the world that you feel is hollow of all but dirt your smile is as dazzling as the sun that hides the night that you alone fear and upon your head, as if marking your troubled mind is dirt caked in the shape of the sun little child, unmarked and forsaken lie no longer to yourself just weep
Every night— the sky falls apart Every day— the world starts to fray How will you comfort her now that they have gone away?
Yet— every time you reach out a single forehoof to gently touch your only companion it is your hoof that needs to be held— your eyes that duck from the sight of distant galaxies and your smile that is for another not hers
You do not know— how to be homesick for a place with no parents waiting there The whole world yawns— no creatures are falling out to greet you anywhere
Every cycle of the heavens on a planet that your parents used to tilt is now a time for sleeping and waking wondering—
Will any but her ever be there?
You used to have a family beyond the limits of one enchanted forest in a kingdom belonging to four and an empire with aunts, uncles, cousins, and others of your race— All before it became one neglected garden crying out with naught but winds and silence—
Something did this—
Something far away from here ripped every town citadel wandering soul and talking creatures away leaving only two fillies and a promise to not disappear
All the stars you cannot stand to see are truly worlds away that— you have yet you do not want to know and you might just deny even as you see the way her eyes light up like they have her own whole sky—
She is the one who manages to get brighter in the dark and still treasure that which you fear for itself as though it could be something—
more
You— who will never find the way to tell her how much that part of her being makes you feel unraveled
Hollering, emptiness must have gobbled up all of the skies' cities unpaved all of the roads snapped up all of the solitary magic folk leaving not even a cloak or scroll to testify that they too had been here
Long ago before all of the roads turned to dust and hinterlands stretching into forever— You could hear something louder than rain like chatter that birds could not fly through and all of the things that made your little sister cover her ears and retreat to the very edges of the real world that you recall back before everything became thick with something so vast and lonely that no amount of you standing at the highest peak letting out all of the screams and tears you must always hide could ever replace the sound of winds over empty praries— or canyons so full of lonely thoughts and the sound of two fillies laughing against forests—
Your heart could not move mountains no matter how much hollering you unloaded at the emptiness
You wish on shooting stars mostly because she points them out first as Luna always has
You do it this wishing together because she has asked you to she has to remind you now and does not realize it
But when you try and make your wishes it is always done with more silence than usual and lately you have had a hard time making any wishes for yourself or something greater—
So you make every single one all about your sister and it still gets harder each time or so you think
You could lay at the bottom of a meadow forever trying to recreate every city and estate that burdened the clouds from the time before you had to fetch your own food and the wilds became your kitchen
Or you could let out the tears that sit in an overwhelming lump waiting at the back of your throat to pounce and choke you breaking the cheer that you so carefully assemble and smear— on your face the way you used to wear mother's makeup— after you wash your face off in a clear brook each morning you have stayed here searching
Often you swallow it somehow that only makes it grow and your chest feel tight for a little while longer than you think it should
But imagining is what Luna fills her head with not you not now not sooner nor later
