i want to touch the stars
in the skies
like you touched me—
with all kinds of
steady hands and
breathing confidently.

i wish i could brush stardust
off of my fingertips
like your thigh brushed against mine—
with all kinds of
painful knowing and
just trying to get by.

i would love to watch
you disappear like stars in the
light-polluted
smog-city sky,
but the stars somehow shine
even brighter
in your ocean-colored eyes

so maybe i should start
wishing on stars to
sink,
and drown,
and die.