i am the light of cities,
not a star on the sky.
soft blue veins under
the expanse of skin;
like asphalt road branching
and pooling into roundabouts.
black pooling on irises,
pretty brown freckles on it.
it does not **** you in,
it's the windows of a house;
let you explore and love,
let the world peek into
the veneer of your heart.
tips of fingers like
trees during winter;
ice princesses sitting
by the sidewalk.
i am not an egg of the galaxy,
but a product of human hands.
years of pinky promises and empty threats
has shaped me into who i am.
i am not what the universe
made me to be;
i am what others contribute to
and what i myself create.