Tumble backwards
Trip on air
Bump an elbow
Bruise a hip

Clumsiness paints my body black and blue
Sick yellows curl around burst vessels
like constellations
against my midnight

I’d cover them
but why
hide the universe

They say that human eyes
can hold galaxies,
constellations.
Maybe that explains why
every time I look into yours,
I feel infinite.
Like there’s no star
I couldn’t reach.

There is a tempest
In the Temple of tonight

All of my values , morals
Are shaking cold from fright

There is a reason now
For all of my due fear

When red is the color
It has turned from water clear

There is red blood from the innocent
Caking on my fingers from their souls

They have been taken in their silence
Their blood has been dried by the cold

In the darkest of the winter
My seed willingly spills

Sickening sweet the cost
Of such a cheapening thrill

It crystalizes screaming
Without making a sound

Upon the snow white flakes
Of the frozen ground

You shuddered when caked
And cold ****** fingers

Stopped to caress your silken breast
Where upon they linger

I briefly touch with the back of my hand
Your perfect cheek that flowers this land

I turn to see a nor by norwestern star
It's my place , my home so far

Then into the blackness
where none of the living dare goes

Love takes a walk with me
Until it's suddlenly froze

Although I’ve tried hard to forget I’ll always remember
With all its glaring effervescence my first ever sleepover
With my friend who was afraid of the dark and as she hung the walls of the night
With lamp light that squabbled with Sleep over my No-Mans-Land eyelids.
I wondered how you could fear something that wasn’t even a something
But a lack of something. Now I read the weather forecast
In the horoscope of Orion’s belt I wonder why we were so afraid
Of a world of muted colours. Like Light was an absent parent
That returned sporadically and left an aftertaste with each visit
And blew cigarette smoke in our faces.
Like Light was a worn-out lover too painful to label as X
Around whom we’d begun to orbit and organise our lives.
I stand in the dark we’re all afraid of and wonder if perhaps
The night is not lonely or cruel but simply wants to kiss the stars.

Do you know, we are all made of stardust.
and let me remind you,
we are the same constellations Tycho Brahe saw
and we are blind and the light is millions years old
and we watch the past lying there on the grass
and you kissed me but it was only my mere dream.

Do you know, we are not equations of maths.
and let me tell you,
now that you know more,we are only important to each other
and we'll be a forgotten memory to the stars
and in a parallel universe my dreams are true
and my soul shivers with your touch.

there is one truth of which i'm incandescently certain and that's that nobody can take away a truth as it darkens, a galaxy in a glass; and the truth is that i'd be the only ***** donor in a charity just for you because signals and signs have showed me your soul and you're grander than celestial poles

if i didn't know any better i'd suggest you're the sun and i'm the solar system and i orbit around you and i'm not too sure about humans having wings but imagine:

a snowy cabin some place away from civilisation, you and i and wholehearted communication, you and i and books and fictional integration, you and i and mind blowing realisations, you and i and wings outstretched souring across nations

you are the sun and i am the solar system and although i orbit you i'm never allowed to brush the surface, i'm guessing it's for a purpose so i admire from afar, a gaze stretched over constellations and the sound of your voice bouncing off stars into my hemisphere of tangled webs and ripened tears, the echoing trailing behind merely a souvenir

there is one truth of which i'm incandescently certain and that's this:

the only reason my brain hasn't stopped my heart from beating is because the thoughts of you are giving it meaning and it's hard to breathe with these overwhelming feelings but i'm coping because the broken glass holding my galaxy is healing

Some days when I gaze up at the stars
it occurs go me that the world
is made up from strings of wonders,
incredible little coincidences,
woven together as one.
I may never have loved myself
but in those moments,
when I see the world exactly as it is,
I can't help but appreciate
the endless webs of miracles
that helped create me.