tiny stars—an abundance of melanin dusts the expanse of your caramel skin as if a deity had decided that you shall carry a part of the universe. maybe they did that in order to give humans an inkling of what it means to gaze upon something too vast, too beautiful.

how lucky am i to have the universe within an arm's breadth then—to have the whole cosmos pulsing, alive under my hand (lub dub, lub dub).

i wonder how many people have desired to discover miniscule details about you, only for me to count the stupid moles from the one behind your ear, to the two on your neck, to the ones forming a triangle on your arm.

the universe truly does wonders,

and i am not the one to complain.