you held me under the honeyed glow
of autumn moonlight
and my spring tide surged.
your luminescence
filled the zenith
of my sugar-studded night sky.
but you are not my moon;
you coruscate
with the ardor of starlight itself.
you are a nebula- glowing
eternal in this heavenly procession,
lustrous beyond lust.
you speak starlight saccharine,
and dance constellations on my lips,
trace the craters in my hips.
you are the fervent fantasy
in the core of this wayward planet,
spun every way in love’s orbit.
they say we are made of stardust
but I didn’t believe it
until I met the stars.
