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My mother always warned me about
handsome boys with meteors for tongues
and grips resembling black holes
About pretty girls with star dust in their breath
and tummies softer than the clouds floating in the sky.
The first time she spoke my name
my mind could not comprehend why
my palms had started to sweat
and my smile stretched across horizons.
The second time it did.
See, I'm not one to reach blindly into the stars,
but in that moment it seemed as if
rocket ships were built to discover the
galaxies in her eyes.
And I didn't mean to make this a running cliche
but that night I saw millions of lightyears into the future
and I'm convinced Saturn's rings would look just as stunning
on her finger.
My horizon fades as I remember her galaxy has its own sun
igniting her days with happiness and warmth
not yet found in my solar system.
My mother always told me to look before I leap
but the gravity surrounding her entire being
keeps giving the illusion
I'll land safely.
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