Stardust

We stumbled home drunk on honeysuckle blossoms. Our feet paced constellations with familiarity. Above us owls retreat telescopic eyes away from waiting dawn. Only the sun could wake us from our diversions; the moon isn’t as abrasive, nothing to prove. We have undressed our skins to prove our existence to each other. Our veins are translucent or our eyes are x-rays or we are made of a million stars. I like to believe that you alone are composed of seven galaxies; heavenly. I always knew you were extraterrestrial. An extrasensory perception, I dreamt you to life: Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood…My hand tenses to draw you across the sky, drawing me into the darkest recesses of a black hole. Your breath brings me back from my midnight musings to your thinly muscled arm linked in mine, the unbroken mass of our shadows, the soft petals of honeysuckles caressing our ears; us dreaming a better us to life in the morning when we stumble from an unmade bed.