The moon swallowed a piece of the night sky,
and wedged itself in so no one could leave.
The stars wondered how they could run away,
so they shot across the sky.
Meteor shows clashed in our eyes,
and we pulled at the black horizon.
We collected pieces of the sky and stars
then pinned them to our skin.
We called them tattoos.
We called them fashion.
We called them ours,
and pressed them into our bodies,
until we took their names
and called it our personality.