*Before I lit a match,
I turned on your light.
Before I bought a book,
I took you into my arms.
Before I had her printed
on my skin,
I knew she was you.*
It was night. There was
nothing in the sky—not
even black. The world
was a pale gray, and the
bats—the color of smoke.
Then you came—a woman
from space, dusk
with yellow armor. The
moon resting on ocean. Your
halo, a burning wreath of
gold. You, finally. You who
I’d been waiting for—the girl
who sneezed the black, the one
who said, “goodnight.” You,
my moon and stars.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC
*Before I lit a match,
I turned on your light.
Before I bought a book,
I took you into my arms.
Before I had her printed
on my skin,
I knew she was you.*
It was night. There was
nothing in the sky—not
even black. The world
was a pale gray, and the
bats—the color of smoke.
Then you came—a woman
from space, dusk
with yellow armor. The
moon resting on ocean. Your
halo, a burning wreath of
gold. You, finally. You who
I’d been waiting for—the girl
who sneezed the black, the one
who said, “goodnight.” You,
my moon and stars.
