Dear Stars, I confess—I’m jealous.

The world is captivated by your light,

your beauty scattered across the heavens,

and you don’t even notice

how many hearts you hold.

No matter how I shine,

no matter how my shape shifts,

I remain unseen.

The Sun blazes boldly through the day,

warm and adored,

yet still the world looks to you—

the glittering, distant Stars.

Who thinks of me?

I lay myself across the ocean,

pull waves toward my glow,

trying to be something worth loving.

But I’m no star—

I cannot burn that bright.

I am the faded crescent,

changing with the seasons,

never constant, never whole.

If only I could steady myself

the way the Sun does,

hold my shape,

keep my glow—

perhaps one day

someone might admire me

the way they admire you,

my brilliant Stars.