what stars are made of

on rainy days like this, my heart feels full of everything and nothing at all and it almost bleeds but it cries instead and i stumble when i stand so i fall. and when you come, it's in a rush like the wind and i never see it, don't see what you're going to mean to me you're invisible, i'm still on the cold ground i'm a flightless bird flapping my wings against the wind until i'm nothing at all, until i'm still and unmoving. and my skies slowly turn from grey to blue i never saw you coming, never thought i'd love you. and i'm in the midst of a battle the sun sinks low i'm watching as you fight watching as my armour falls watching as a fire rises from nothing at all. i tell myself in whispers at midnight that you're not a mistake it's not hard to believe it when everything's so vivid and bright we're golden– no sorrows, no ache. and when you leave, you leave your scarf and coat behind and the

darling nobody, death has always been my biggest fear- and i don’t think that will ever change. when i was six, i would try to imagine what it would be like to be dead- to cease to exist. i would lie in bed, and try to imagine what it would feel like to not feel anything. like floating. it terrified me. dia de los muertos or the day of the dead is a mexican tradition that grows on me quite easily. my incurable fear of death does not stop me from admiring those who accept it- and even welcome it with open arms. mexicans are unusually positive about death, and everything to do with it. as my host mother tells me, “it’s the only thing that you know is going to happen for sure.” it scares me more than i will ever admit. it was the mayans who had a traditional ball game that they played for two weeks. there was a little twist, though: the team that won the game would have the honour of being beheaded, and sacrificed to the gods above.   dia de los muertos too, was or