If you were mine, I must not touch you.
In the desert of space and time
I would watch you turn.
And you would know
that every part of you was being memorized,
so that I could still fuel my world when you're not home.
Like solar energy.
Like sunflowers.
If you were mine, you must never be held.
I will always be longing for your warmth,
basking in your glow,
thriving from the excess you exhale.
You, my sun, are everything--
and when you go, we will surely follow.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
If you were mine, I must not touch you.
In the desert of space and time
I would watch you turn.
And you would know
that every part of you was being memorized,
so that I could still fuel my world when you're not home.
Like solar energy.
Like sunflowers.
If you were mine, you must never be held.
I will always be longing for your warmth,
basking in your glow,
thriving from the excess you exhale.
You, my sun, are everything--
and when you go, we will surely follow.
