He? Glowing like neon lights
On a dark stark night
I don't even need
to stare him down
To see what he is made of.

He! Made of thousands of galaxies
And his eyes... a constellation
Out of bright burning blue stars
Hung upon a clear velvet sky
I tell myself, maybe that is why...

He, don't even bother to try
For when he speaks, his words it spills
Like ice-cold soda in my tongue
Simply cool though unrehearsed

He. The boy who could capture
A shooting star with his bare hands
Tell him, my satellite of a heart
is starting to orbit around his
Like a planet to the sun.