Littered on my skin are memories,
of gall and glory;
the coarse touches that fabricated
these mars and scars.
But no being discerns any of these.
They see the wildfire within you,
the flames that engulf
your entire being.
Yet, you are more than that —
more than the destruction which you are.
I am nothing but a minuscule spec
of dust and grime compared to you.
I’ve been with you, for ages, longer,
longer than anyone has known you.
I glance at you from afar, as I
spin around the world and orbit around you.
I get closer to you each step,
but I am drawn back.
The moments where we embrace,
embrace that encumbrance between us.
The stellar beings are jealous,
that we get to lace our dust
and the luminance that emits from us.
We seldom get a chance to intertwine
our cores, to show and tell
the fondness that we attained
for one another.
They say we were
predestined by the Divine,
fated since the beginning of creation.
You give me the luminance that I
cannot obtain without you.
But by the moment we truly clash,
the galaxies will all cease.
To pacify my strife, I then ask the stars
if they could grant my wish
of showing you the memories I cannot give.