don’t you know? your body
is made of stardust—i see
it glimmering in you.
don’t you know? you are
not too much, you are not
too little, you are an
entire world; you are
mountains, you are trees,
you are the gentle-moving
tides and the soft-curving river,
you are the ever-still lake.
don’t you know? the craters
in your skin are no less
beautiful than the ones that
kiss the moon’s surface.
don’t you know? there are
nebulae inside your chest,
and they glow, they glow,
they glow—you are never
alone in the darkness, love.
don’t you know? the night
sky twinkles along you,
the northern lights oscillate
as you breathe.
don’t you know? don’t you
know? you are beautiful;
you are your own galaxy.