What do you want, then?

Do you want marvels?
     Do you want comets,
do you want the entire night sky
     pooled in the bow of your collar bones?
Do you want love?
     Do you want heartache,
do you want spring blossoms
     flourishing between the lattice of your entwined fingers?
Do you want hope?
     Do you want burning smiles,
do you want the crushing weight
     of space, plummeting inside your chest?
Do you want pain?
     Do you want the broken places,
do you want the earth falling from its axis
     so you can find your place?