For you, I feel an ancient yearning Baked into my bones A cosmic ache- A prehistoric hunger- A primitive pining
Yes, It’s a supernatural connection— Mine and yours— A rest-the-vessel, Let-the-tides-guide, Sacred sort of love
Because betwixt us, There is a longing Only the moon No — only god, herself And all her sapphic sovereignty Could resist
There is a glowing desire So fervent within us That I wish I could reach into your Heavenly Body And pull out your stars And thread them into the nest of my womb
An immortal, galactic romance— Ours is— Fit for gallery halls and poetry readings And woven with all the glittery things But it’s Roommates, they’ll call us Roommates, reads our plaque
Roommates— Not lovers, nor sweethearts Not partners, nor darlings No lust No lore The saga of us, enduring no more
Celestial stains and divine shame Roommates, we’ll remain So we’ll guard this holy matrimony, We’ll let our lovers’ anthem die We know the truth is in the stars We know who lives a lie
A nod to queer erasure in history and a commentary on the current political climate