Megan Rich
the way the sky fades from an array of pinks and oranges slowly into an abyss of cobalt, and the growing electric darkness that brings forth gleaming polar-white specks that litter the sky like freckles on your cheeks. why do I feel like I’m going to live forever, yet contemplate my existence at the same time? a shooting star leaves a visible trail in the sky, makes your stomach flutter
with amazement. The Milky Way galaxy piercing the ebony canvas, but dimmed by the light pollution of the nearby city; it’s a sea of stardust wrapped around our planet like an embracing hug. satellites trail slowly and haphazardly out of the corner of your eye. you hear someone approaching from behind you, “I’m not alone,” you think to yourself. I’m not alone
Clamor 