His hands were as long as legs,
god, the kicks
could bruise my skin
but I learned them like planets. I can’t hate eyes on me
so much if they are like a telescope,
stargazing. Some
have purple freckles, are healing, and I can
think of those who hurt me
as children who
think they want to be astronauts
but are scared of the dark. So, the blue
sky walks
slowly down the aisle to night when I mention
maybe my constellations are too much like veins to
be seen yet. Who do I
save by making
him
not want to rip me open and **** out my
gravity again?
Sometimes he reminds me that
dark matter is not
the space between two people, but the color of their
skin when they touch. So, I
wish he would not touch me and
slide planets inside that hurt to stay in orbit.