Forget Me Not, Omega.

When night has gone and you have gone, I play upon the rooftop fringe, connect-the-dots with blinking back, luster lack stars, neg- ligent. Concerned with no one but themselves, they plaster tight to dome of universe, like dynamo, forever in my sky, as do the pinpoint constellations that lie on bridge of nose and inner thigh Andromeda. Forget me not, Omega. You wouldn’t though, Celeste. You'd never go. So vain in your way, and I adored you so, and still I cringe and moan as you traverse about my hemisphere. I am consumed, And you, as always, are by morning gone.