Toast me to the stars, with peanut butter moons

Let’s picnic on a comet, while Saturn hums his tunes

I’ll bring my broken compass, you bring your unpaid fines

We’ll navigate the cosmos by ignoring all the signs


Kiss me on the forehead, then ghost me on the Sun

Tell me life’s a soufflé—that’s collapsed for everyone

My heart’s a busted jukebox, still skipping to your name

But darling, I blame gravity… it’s pulling all the blame


Oh, launch me with your laughter, crash me in your grace

I’ve written vows in Morse code on this paper plate

If love’s a constellation, I’ll forget the map

Let’s wing it through the galaxy with snacks and mild regret


We could’ve been deep—like a fortune cookie lie

But we chose memes and sarcasm, with a side of "why try?"

Still, if I get reborn as your neighbor’s poodle’s dream

I’ll wag my tail politely when you scream


So toast me to the stars, just one last clumsy flight

Let’s dance where logic fears to tread, beneath the satellite

And if we crash, let’s crash with flair—our drama writ in craters

For love, my dear, was always for the idiots… and waiters.

I’ll be orbiting your voicemail...

Till voicemail’s out of style.

It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

Jamie Lancaster