Categories
Issue 3 Poetry

Milkdromeda

The biggest change I made was in the second to last stanza where I added lines that connected to the first few stanzas. I brought back the voices and quarrels from the start, making it clear that they represent humans. I also tweaked the “And I watch,” stanza to make it flow better, changing envisionments to just visions, changing “radiating” to glimmering for an alliteration effect, and shortening the last line to keep it succinct. Lastly, I steered away from cliche at the end of the “Cut from the same cloth” line by changing what I originally had to a pause and then bringing in “But I’m afraid, you were too late” to bring back the pace of the poem.

When I first dreamt of you,
you were universes away.
Just a theory I conjured;
never to come my way.

Spent a lifetime hearing billions
of voices within
touting my whimsicalness
to even think you’d exist.

“Too idealistic,” “too perfect,”
for this universe;
for me.
Ought to focus on myself,
not my silly hopes in love,
no matter the momentous
joy they bring.

Billions of years dwelling on my worlds,
and their never-ending quarrels . . .
But one day they stopped.
And I watched them look up. 

With their atom-sized eyes,
they gazed and froze at the lights
painted across the tiny puzzle piece
that is their night sky.
Headed their, and my, way
was a spiraling figure straight
from my dreamscapes . . .

Cut from the same cloth;
Reflecting off of you are my flaws
that you spiral into awe;
defying any scientific law,
humanity could conjure up,
as you catch me as I fall
into a supernova rage.

But I’m afraid,
you were too late. 

Now all life is thrown out of orbit,
Plutonic, nothing is conforming;
all attempts at staying aloof wane;
emotions change phase to phase.

No psychoanalyzing
can make sense of
this reality
I once dreamt of.
Whispering rings of your light
invade every silent space,
leaving no room to wait.
Calling out for you
is my deafening fate.

And I watch,
visions of our collision,
and I feel
planetary rings flutter within,
and I start
glimmering and glistening,
so they say,
“This must be our end.”
Doom’s day packaged and delivered,
courtesy of your grin.
I expel
light twice as fast as I took it in
ever since you sent me spiraling.

I can’t help this burning.
Never knew anything but yearning.
Am I ready for
even meant for anything else?
Can’t help but wallow myself
in thoughts of whether I should stay,
or run . . .
The dilemma of spiraling two into one:
Lovers’ Milkdromeda.

But your love is worth the risk of collision.
Your warmth puts to shame their Venus.
The tension of our fusion
is enough to restart the universe . . .
Why not give them their conclusion?

I’ve orbited you ever since I dreamt you up,
like how the voices rave or bundle up
in accordance with their Sun.
Felt like my life would never start,
that I’d be forever stuck
replaying flutters of love
quarreling through all my worlds,
until you filled the void of my heart
and let my dreams rekindle yours.
Now stories are told with our stars . . .
Who would’ve thought we’d get this far?

And to think it all started,
with you catching me mid-spiral,
in one of the rings you spun . . .

And now we’re one.

Evan Mueller is a rising sophomore at DePaul University studying economics and political science. He’s used writing to encapsulate, enliven, and preserve feelings and moments of his life since the 7th grade. Mainly focused on poetry, he’s recently had his pieces published in Messy Misfits Club and Dreamers By Night, more of his work can be found at @toeternallydaydream on Instagram.