Two Planets Are Fighting i.

A discourse about the way we hold hands would involve particle physics and matches that never got to light anything. I pass you every day and all I see are the clouds on your surface, swirling over geographies I have not had the privilege to fall through. The Hunter has come to keep us apart, you know. To sheck and shull us from each other, your glow and my gravity, pulled apart by a love of pure. And won't you miss me, lover? Won't you miss the dark of you? I know you love the purple pull of deceit, a secret we kept, like all that time we stole from right under The Hunter's sensor. The hull of her ship. Her clone, born to us like a new angel, scythe in hand, blue brow to new horizon; some loves make for good stories. Ours was made to be forgotten. To be erased. Baptized in each other, We could never share alive, like how I can imagine us fighting over bedsheets in the dark. Our children never saw the bigger point in our mix- I wanted the bright and the black of us. The sharp and the lost. This Hunter, she only brought the blinding of you home to me. She stole the soft of your mornings, the cliffs that reflected my shadows, our Sanctuary of broken homes. I had thought, for maybe just a few rips in space, that you had loved the chaos of being ripped apart alive and in love and ready to die.

ii. Let's get this straight. I never asked for you. Some unholy martyr of an asteroid told me I was supposed to be bruised to be in love and I believed it. The Hunter told me she could take the pain away.

She told me she had weapons for your darkness and that my children would never be silent for fear of your violet rage again. She came here for her own kind, and told me this tear in my chest was not the work of God, so keep your talons to yourself. I have no need of rushing flight to the end of our jagged existence. No. I never asked for the clouds to cover the shadows you left on my mountain ranges. I only wanted to give my children the universe. The Hunter offered to at least give them a life back, and the behemoth of your fear that rose from your poisonous heart like a rusty blade removed is no child of mine. I will never forget the shreds of agony you burst alive inside me for as long as I live. Fuck your typhoon of black hope and the wastes of dedications you etched in my name. You will be unmade but my children will never stop. They will warn eons of your lecherous burn, the way you told me you loved me. Love means shit when you're blinded by yourself. The Hunter gave you the real light of me. Did it hurt? When she pulled out your firstborn through a bottle filled with sun, did the twisted temple of your heart shudder? You came to me like an earthquake with no aftershock and The Hunter told me she could quell the trembling. I never asked for all this wreckage.

History Books You asked my extremities to forget me but I ended up with the longer story. The small memories I turned to your terrors, do you know what it's like to feel an infinity of tiny gravities and watch them all disappear? Does the suit I gave to your parents and they gave to you,

does it have a program that lets you die a thousand times for every color? I will never forget you, even in non-existence. You blew me apart to save the world, you said. What about me? I'm a world too, you know. It's always about the rest of them. And you. Always a phone call away from forgetting my birthday and you never explored me the way you thought about the rest of the universe. I wanted to be your universe. Could have been. Home, at least. When you're done, when the last smirch of dark among creation is polished into oblivion, where will you go? because Space is too big to call home, and you ended any chance of returning with me.

Adams' Helmet Security Camera 36: A figure harpoons the corner in lithe blue, slides for a helmet. Dialogue:// I'm sorry, Adam. You were the beginning, and I was the end. The station is dying. The life here escaped before we could stop it. I never knew. If only I'd known.//: Security Camera 40: Status- hacked-/ I'm so sorry The small it told me to the small The Small The Small made me Last Transmission: The space station was made for bio-weapons and I was only made for saving lives, so why is my hand the scythe? I found the heart of the galaxy on the back of my hand, asked

God for a sign, he gave me a father. Shucking the bones of my dead parents, I will not forget about the bodies I've left behind. The last helmet I ever found was across the line where my courage failed me. I'll always love you.

Alternative

The sun takes a seflie using the burnished mirror of your ship as you pass by on your way to destroy another planet you decided was too dangerous to live. The picture is sent to your email account with the tag "flipping off the night sky" and a single 's' attached to it. You wonder about the infants on the next place, if they're big enough to kill yet. The sun's picture gains no likes, and it sends you another message as you touch the jungle of Tallon IV that says Did anybody notice? I can't see past my own light here. I just want to be adored. You decline to tell the sun that you are in the process of turning out the lights. Instead, you send a snapchat of you with your helmet down, pale and blushing from lack of natural light, a smile that could conquer thousands, with the caption You look great, darling. Just great.

Mission Complete Enemies scanned: 100% Thoughts about the first ten years of empty: 19% Lore Collected: Tallon IV: 20% Aether- 8% You are in the dark of me and I fall. Dark Aether-84% I asked them to stop I swear I prayed with them I told them these thoughts are not your own please don't make me hurt you please don't hurt yourself I was in a dressing room talking to my army of reflections they were blue and laughing Norion- 10% Elyssia- 4% Phaaze-18% The last four planets made art about me before I ever showed up what was I supposed to do I kept staring at the walls watching them tell me do destroy it I did not ask to be their savior they kept telling me to save them it's not like I had a choice there are tongues in the empty that nag me at night there are weathervanes shaped in my initials I am a storm to be called I'm so sorry I'm sorry here take this bomb I'm sorry here take the poison back I'm sorry here take the razors of myself here take me take me back please take me back home I want to go home but the voices they told me to burn it just let me go home to the fire Self- n/a Phone Numbers Memorized: 6 I hear the ringtones of dead lovers in my sleep. Phone Calls Made: 3 Phone Calls Home:0 Extras Acquired: Body Modifications: 100% Health- 2% They'll never be able to follow me now my entire spectrum has changed. Weapons Acquired: I only need to sleep when the stars burn out.