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ji Oct 2015
When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut. I told myself, "I want to see the stars and the planets up-close." I think probably we all had that stage in childhood where we all wished to be space walkers like Armstrong.

But eight years later, now I don't wish to be an astronaut anymore. I wish to be a writer. Because I have already seen all of the stars and the nebulae in your eyes. I wonder how they all got condensed in those two small circles like the moon. I whisper to myself, "It's so lustrous."

I already felt the weightlessness of space in your kisses, and your hugs are like oxygen tanks -- I need them to breathe. And when I see you-- just looking at your gait and smelling your perfume is even more enthralling than being in a launching rocket ship that pierces through the clouds and breaks the invisible mantle that separates the Earthly skies from the cosmic tapestry called "the rest of the universe". And I float away from reality and just revolve around the idea of you and nothing more like how the satellites of Jupiter revolve around it almost eternally.

I don't need to see the constellations anymore nor the planets or the meteors because I have seen them all in your skin-- I painted them on your skin. Others might call it bruises, but they do not understand that your body-- your neck, your arms, your chest are empty spaces and it'd feel like a sin not to embellish them with love marks -- the bruises that do not scream pain but* I love you's. *And I love you.

More than all the splendor of space, I still find your hair and the arch of your back and the gaps between your fingers and your clavicles so much more beautiful. Even this galaxy we live in seem to be unfit for its name: Milky Way. I think that name suits better your complexion alone. And when you smile-- oh, your smile! -- it is more radiant than the brightest comet and more warm than the hottest blue star; even the sun in the most arid summer-- it just gives me sunburns, but your smile, only yours, renders my heart melted.

When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut because I wanted to see the space. But now I don't anymore. Because I learned that astronauts are just spectators and I want to write about the universe. I want to write about you.
Marieta Maglas Oct 2015
From his explosions,
Our sun spreads antimatter
Into the cosmos
And orbits around the core
Of the immense Milky Way
To make a low-speed cyclone.

Poem by Marieta Maglas
Joyce Joadiyce Sep 2015
I want to jump off Saturn's moons
Swing me then about to Venus
Find my way 'round the Milky Way
Back to Earth someday someway
after the mysterious galaxy

You may share any of my poems if you want not for money though their copyright
Lexy Jun 2015
Rather than looking at the night sky
I love to catch the look of absolute wonder on someone's face,
as they crane their neck to observe the stars.
It's easy to get lost under the speckled blanket of our universe,
but I'm always grounded by the constellations of humanity.
A child's eyes shine brighter than the moon ever could,
and while the Milky Way flows through our veins
somehow I'm reassured by this world's insignificance.
Because here we are, bumping into people on the sidewalk
as we get distracted by dead gas.
Rockie Dec 2014
Light filters through the windows
Like a little moth
Or pretty butterfly

It floods the dawn
Drowning the hopeful and the tired
Like a cup of sweet tea

Light melts the doubt
Of the depressed
And the lonely

Light,
Beautiful in the daytime
Milky in the moonlight
james lian Aug 2014
Three men on a platform,
one wipes the sun,
another washes the clouds,
the third one rinses the sky.
I wonder if they will stay there,
When it's night time.

When I come back,
one wipes the sun,
another washes the stars,
the third one rinses the milky way.
cosmic poet Apr 2014
a cosmic heartbeat
lost in time,
suspended in space
a cold embrace
nebula eyes and milky way skin
never to commit a sin
asteroid temper and moon cold grace
dancing in a frayed chase

— The End —