Butterflies
don't exist
when you
talk to me.
Instead, I
feel at ease,
as though I've
known you my entire life. The rest of the
world is silenced to a low buzz, not quite
"you and I", yet we still have our very own                  ittle infinity.

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

may the forces of gravity draw us near
the ocean tides swell till a wave brings
you home

you are like the moon with its ethereal glow
a beacon on a dark night

no matter how far I am
I can stare at the moon and
know that the same moon light
that shines on me shines on you

may the light of the moon draw us near
to the magnificent glow of the sun
without getting burned