she cries in constellations _______________________________ the astronomer’s daughter weeps saltwater. i. she mourns the stars like childhood friends—gone without goodbye, swallowed by distances too vast to curse. her father once told her their names in whispers, each syllable soft as candle smoke. now she recites them like elegies. ii. when she cries, the ocean listens. the waves rise, not to meet her, but to grieve beside her. they know what it is to ache for a light that never returns. they do not question her sadness. they only echo it, a melody of mourning. iii. her father once mapped heavens; she maps absence. her atlas is written in tears, and though no one will chart her melancholy, the water remembers. in the lull between tides, it silently hums her sorrow back to the stars. and so when the heavens dim, the sea carries her longing to every flicker that fades—reminding them they were never alone.
