my galaxy is an anagram of hers.
she wakes on planet heart
I sleep under a sky full of rats

she works as an astronomer,
i moonlight as a moon-starer
and she may be morose
but i am moreso

because, all the way in andromeda,
that glittering, nebulous bubble bath
where Cygnus and Leo playfully paddle,
Orion wears a scarf,
and she never left

we met up for a coffee
and we both got extra hot
but it was her eyes of gold
that would shimmer and scald
at that little midtown shop

three years and a day went past
where we almost tied the knot
and I stayed enthralled
'til I got a call
saying lets meet at our usual spot

and she didn't sip the coffee
as it went from hot to cold
like here eyes that glazed
on an autumn day
while they lost their flecks of gold

her smile a gentle splashing
just like that streetlamp on her door
and her voice a comforting lapping
like a wave upon the shore

but like the moon that can't keep waxing
for a night that's craving more
she left; her green eyes flashing
like a distant meteor

our crescent moon floats in idle reverie
amidst its opal lagoon
in that lacuna befAore the day's first morning blush
while the fish hold their breath

and as she swims,
she illuminates the heiroglyphs scrawled on the sky
in the scumbled vapourtrails of hurried planes
soon to be dispersed
by the heavy breaths of snoring gods

but i just don't ******* care
moon, please let me sleep

like venus and mars, nestled betwixt a bounty of stars
we snicker at the galaxies of gods
behind flakey, early morning lips;
waiting for the apocalypse

melting at your touch
a simple hug - our brusque
adieu

and you'll never be too much
for someone who can't get enough
of you