Have you ever witnessed
such flawlessly executed
blissful ignorance?

Who are you, and why
have I brought you here?

13 days--just shy of two weeks;
and here you are.
The paint hasn't dried
the pain
still damp to the touch

Pressing eager fingers
still results in
pretty residue, that
leaves fingerprints on every subsequent touch

And, dry,

Pressing eager fingers
still results in
***** flakes, that
reject fingerprints altogether

So why
have I brought you here?
To watch paint dry?
Leave while it's wet,
save yourself the water
it takes to wash your hands

Save yourself the time
it takes to wash your soul
from the presence of

such flawlessly executed
blissful ignorance.

I don’t know the science
of it,
but I once read
we are made of the stuff of stars.
Their particles are inside
of us,
and essentially, we are
minutely star ourselves,
floating amidst each other.
I wonder which two,
or ten,
celestial bodies above us share
their most intimate bits
with us, and I wonder
when the Universe fates
us to
collide and supernova
in a coruscation of fiery
shards of galaxy,
do so our cousins?
Are the
same astral fragments within
us smashing over our heads,
birthing a divine and
romantic parallel?