Return To Eden

My tongue twists into crazy
abbreviations, consequences
of not being complete:

like the flowers you left on my pillow
to fathom the braids of my hair.

On this auspicious day, my mind drifts
to thoughts of you.

I wish the world could’ve seen,
that I have kissed you at every point
of the Triangulum constellation.

It is there, I will kiss you again
and again, over and over; watch your
soil run through my veins, with flowers
blooming from your collarbone.

I know, I will decay some day,
but not alone; perhaps my language
is adequate enough to paint you into
constellations, into something so
intricate, even the thought makes
me tremble,

like when moonlight kisses your bare
skin; and you place a red rose there,
then you weave and knot yourself into me,

and teardrops bloom into winter stars
falling from my cheeks,

whispering, ‘Andromeda’

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