Imperfect relationships (which I think are most human connections) feel like the night sky.

It’s ever-changing, and even though other people might be looking at the same thing, no one can experience it like you do.

You try to capture its essence, lock it away for personal admiration, but you can’t. It’s too vast, too potent, out of reach, but still present.

My numb brain is grateful for your poem. It just saw a double rainbow after spending the day in grayscale.