~ Written by Danielle N. Bilski ~

C e i l i n g  m a d e  o f  s t a r s
(written in five parts between 13.5.2019 – 19.5.2019)

o n e :

The giant hole in the ceiling, that made it feel like every night the stars were falling upon the polished ironbark floor had begun to lose its charm. A crisp chill of a cloudless Autumn twilight, as the sky darkened above, was not something she had ever imagined would invite itself inside her home with such drama, let alone be given enough time to settle in. She had naively believed him when he said the lounge room ceiling would be as ‘good as new’ by summer’s end. By then, he was long gone and as March arrived, her life had turned cold in more ways than she expected.

Nala stood under the circle of damaged plaster. She tucked her hair behind her ears and crossed her dressing gown tighter across her chest as she studied the visible star formations. Like starlight, lost love lingers for the lonely, she thought. That could be the beginning of a new poem. They weren’t just words to her. She felt the suffocating loneliness despite knowing the love she’d lost was one-sided all along. In daylight she was busy and it was bearable. Every night, beneath the ceiling made of stars, the damage that remained to her home and her heart was undeniable.

It was now clear that she should’ve had the landlord add Kellan’s name to the tenant list. Then, perhaps all of the responsibility for the destruction wouldn’t have fallen completely on her shoulders once they’d broken up. On the other hand, they’d only been official for four months when he’d planned her surprise birthday party at the unit she rented on her own in Cheltenham. The party hadn’t surprised her. She’d noticed the clues. For one thing, he’d started to leave the room every time his phone rang or buzzed with a new notification. She also noticed his normally easygoing mood had changed to being constantly anxious for no apparent reason.

The biggest clue, however, was a letter she received from the local council denying a recent application for a fireworks permit submitted in her name. Obviously, she hadn’t applied for a fireworks permit. The things that did surprise Nala were the fact that Kellan, or one of his mates, decided to set the fireworks off in her lounge room and how big of a hole it would leave once it exploded. Didn’t anyone use a simple bag of colourful party poppers full of harmless streamers, anymore? The kind you buy from the supermarket and don’t require a permit for. She’d also surprised herself by being so understanding. Too understanding, as it turned out.

Nala had long-passed the crying stages of both the break up and the home damage. Despite the loneliness, she was now in the habit of practising peaceful contemplation. Solace, in those quite hours between dinner and sleeping, came as she poured her heart into writing poetry. She had no intention of showing anyone else. Ever. Her scribbles merely served as a way to release all of the words as she had nobody else to listen. In the kitchen, her favourite apricot mug was slowly filled with a long black. A familiar, nutty aroma always ilicited a sense of comfort that was conducive to her deepest reflection. As Nala and her coffee moved towards the couch, where her open notebook sat, she glanced up at the sky. There it was.

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