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Galaxy 257 MAG
The TV illuminates the line
that connects your neck to your shoulder.
It looks like the edge of a solar eclipse
on a Thursday night.
You lean forward,
intertwining your fingers together.
I lean back,
wishing 5 of those fingers were mine.
If I were to reach out,
pull you closer to me
Your universe could press against
my stars
And my sun could warm the coldest corners of your galaxy
with only a t-shirt and time in our way.
If I were to close the distance,
a super nova of energy would
crash into walls and
shatter the window.
Now I don't know much about the Milky Way
or radio active decay
But I do know how your eyes look at 3 a.m.
when alcohol blows clouds of smoke from your breath
and all you want is for someone to take you home
And I can.
Because the distance between the stars in my eyes
and the sun in your chest
is enough for me
to shoot across the night sky
to this room
to your fingers
so they can stop searching for mine.
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Favorite Quote:
"With great power comes great responsibility" --Bruce Wayne