you are like the earth
and i am like the moon,
because i orbit around you
you are like the sun
and i am like the stars,
because i cling to you
your eyes are like the storms of jupiter
except happier because you love me i think
my eyes are like deep pools of clouds
because you float in them
my dear, you are made of stardust
and maybe that is why
you shine so brightly.
we couldn’t hold the planets in our hands,
so we dug up the earth to find an alternative.
the closest we’ll ever be to space
is in a black opal.
we found rocks that matched our eyes,
celestial bodies fitted in sockets.
we found the northern lights,
captured in fluorite.
obsidian as a reflection of us,
and poudretteite as a metaphor for our lives.
He’s probably not everything I’ve ever wanted
Pompous and overbold, he shines too bright,
Like he’s some star that refuses to die,
An insignificant blinking wanting to conquer the universe.
It hurts to watch him,
a fragile twinkle who’s so desperate to encompass his
Struggles, to survive, to not fall apart to his weaknesses.
He believes “talent is something you make bloom”
Obsessive, compulsive, the only things he makes bloom are
The tired lavenders under his eyes
and angry blues on his knees, the colors fading and reappearing
Remind me of when days turn into nights, nights into days.
Reckless and confident, he makes me want to punch him
He’s a train wreck happening, a shooting star hurling through space,
When I find him, he’ll be in pieces, and I’ll have to hold him together
He’s a constant motion, an existence that weighs like the whole world when he leans his forehead onto mine, and I tremble in his arms because I can’t stop him
He hides his daily torture through high-pitched whines and flashy smiles,
As if he’s the center of the universe, when all he is
is matter being absorbed into a black hole.
Pretentious and annoying and troublesome and stupid and dumb and
more than enough
I gravitate to him, he keeps me afloat
When I stare into his eyes
I see galaxies
When I hold his hands
When he wraps me in his chest of insecurities,
I feel the planets align
When he kisses me,
I know a stellar collision has happened.
If that isn’t enough proof,
My heart, in all its stardust, a living form of space,
Pulses and radiates, in sync with the universe’s heartbeat,
A steady affirmation that yes,
He’s not everything I want
But he’s everything I need
A loss of orbit,
Her gravitational forfeit;
She no longer greets the moon
The galaxies have strayed,
From her intravenous decay;
A mind no longer in this celestial room
She cries tears of river floods,
And cascading molten blood;
That ravage at her innermost core
Now wildstorms of polluted rain,
Course destruction within sorrowed veins;
when you were born
the stars and the suns and the planets and the moons reversed
and slowly crept backwards, recounting history
explosions and implosions freckled the void
lives were lived and clouds mummified the earth
craters blemished the faces of many and documented years of torment
asteroids punched the surfaces of aspiring habitats
it was a senseless frontier with no remorse or empathy
but then the void was eased with substance
and the communities pulsated and changed in undulating trends
until finally they reverted completely towards one point
a single, lone point surrounded by nothing
it was you
and you were born
As my weeks are filled with good days
A sudden thought surfaces into my brain
What if my good days are numbered?
What if I couldn't be granted more by the Universe?
Just like we have 180 days of school
I've got a certain number of good
What if as they happen continuously, regularly
Bad days are to come, to disrupt my routine?
And now, every time I have a good day
I think about how there must be another planet in retrograde
And worry about tomorrow's sake
pass me by;
a wave of starlight
returning from the ends of the universe
to order sushi
for the warp-drive home.
Listening to snippets
of interstellar conversations,
talk of galaxies
and far from home
Can you imagine?
Me, the human,
eating maki rolls
making idle conversation
about whether the meteor shower
will affect putting the washing out to dry.
Questioning whether anyone has heard the
Voyager Golden Record yet,
like some space hipster
with indie music taste
and infinite curiosity.
Pulling planets off the
racking up colourful rings and moons
to calculate my travels
when I get the bill.
Seeing a fellow spaceman
and exchanging a nod
over salmon flowers
and Diet Coke,
a taste of my home planet.
Beaming back smiles and reviews
to tell my parents
about all the wonderful friends I’ve met
tell my grandparents
that I’m making them proud
tell my sisters
about all the planets I’ve found
that would make them happy.
Possibility is on the menu,
and I’m having mine with a side dish
and a serving of recklessness to start.
Hanging up my spacesuit
in the cloakroom;
in just a t-shirt and pants
watching the shower of stars outside
clinging onto chopsticks
like they’re the ignition keys
for an intergalactic adventure.
But we all have to stop for sushi
at some point,
to give us a little raw taste
of remembering what it felt like
to try something new
for the first time.
they’re all bright eyes and warm hands, they’ll kiss you on the cheek. beautiful freckles. glowing skin, sunflowers and paintbrushes gripped tightly in their hand.
dark clothes and a eyes-closed kind of grin, beat up sneakers and an arizona iced tea, hair that shines, they sparkle even in the dark. soft kisses that taste like spearmint.
smooth talkers, could convince you to do anything. big eyes and round lips, hair tied up or tucked behind their ear. late night walks and quiet conversations.
lipgloss and breathless laughing, soft hands and tummy. kissing their girlfriend randomly. a voice like honey. hypnotizingly lovely. muffled music and strawberry lemonade.
quick winks and subtle smirks. would kill for you. a love deeper than the ocean, strong shoulders and collar bones. bloody knuckles healing over and tight hugs.
dreamy girls, hazy around the edges. tilting their heads to the side and sleeping soundly. delicate hands and cherry chapstick. hot cups of tea served with knowing eyes.
sharpened pencils tucked behind their ear. serious eyes with a hint of laughter. tapping their toes and paying attention. books piled high with the pages well loved.
moving their hips and applying lipstick. a smile that electrifies you and lips that entrance you. has a hundred admirers but loves the one girl she can’t have. red lights and excitement.
confidence that carries through the air. tastes like energy drinks and lightning. crooked smile messy hair. continuous movement with no time to talk. gesturing hands and shuffling papers.