Spacetime
underneath a veil of perfect midnight
velvet, you kissed me,
had me thinking I’d lost my mind
growing dizzier, dizzier, even dizzier,
I felt myself spinning out somewhere
lost in spacetime

Call it love at first sight, or even lust,
but know it for what it is - familiarity.
You see, the second I first locked eyes with you,
I realized I was missing an integral piece of myself.
I realized, you and I were made from the same stardust
and no matter what I do, I can’t shake the feeling
that the universe put us in this one spot in
space and time so that we could come
together to set fire to the skies.

My shoulders measure no more
than a foot across, left to right.
Your hands wrap around my wrists,
your fingers curling 'round with
length to spare.
You stand a whole head taller
than me, with an ego to match,
and a superiority complex,
if I've ever seen one.
But being smaller than you
doesn't make me anything less.
Being smaller, doesn't  make me
incapable, inferior, or insignificant.

I just take up less space.

You, however have proven
your worth time
and time again with every
remark you make
that belittles someone else
and it's all I can to
keep from saying how much
of a waste of space you are.

He sleeps with the air on, the sound in the background
somehow d r o w n s out the chaos around him.
She sleeps with him, beside her because the sound of
his breathing does the same.

Magnolia, delicate, debonair,
and dressed in shades of pink, white, and green.
Like a blushing bride, so fragrant, fair
and fragile, a very feminine queen.
You’re timeless and beautiful beyond words.
Others stand in awe, yet you do not see.
To think that you don’t know would be absurd
surely, you are aware of your own beauty
Let me tell you, Magnolia, one truth:
one day, you will grow out of that allure,
your petals will fall, and you’ll lose your youth.
A love for yourself, now, should be procured
For once it is gone, it will not return.
What once was should not be a flower’s concern.

perfect
hide
burning
breathe
dying
flinch
run
disappointment
usel­ess
wrong

These are just some words
that come to mind when
he does.

As it turns out, despite his
opinion, I was always the
first word and he was always
the last.

There is some kind of soft magic
in the way your hands glide
across my skin, half knowing,
and half discovering,
deciphering,
decoding all that I am.
The way you go straight to the heart
of the matter, yet in doing so,
you're perpetually awed both by
your new findings and by the
remnants of stardust you left
behind, last time.