you held me under the honeyed glow

of autumn moonlight

and my spring tide surged.



your luminescence

filled the zenith

of my sugar-studded night sky.



but you are not my moon;

you coruscate

with the ardor of starlight itself.



you are a nebula- glowing

eternal in this heavenly procession,

lustrous beyond lust.



you speak starlight saccharine,

and dance constellations on my lips,

trace the craters in my hips.



you are the fervent fantasy

in the core of this wayward planet,

spun every way in love’s orbit.



they say we are made of stardust

but I didn’t believe it

until I met the stars.