what does love look like in your universe, darling?

in my of and hues, and chant lachrymose canzones and cipher billet doux to their unknown lovers

perhaps in your universe, and bask in gold and starfire

and blossom chinese on the lines that voyage through the soul of each star

perhaps love isn't so in your universe

like mine where one constellation rise at the dawn of while the other unveils itself on the crisp of

where one constellation breathes in the early aubade while the other is lost in the chasms of

perhaps im your universe, sweethearts rise and fall together, painting each other's palm with rosegold and archaic stardust stolen from wild galaxies

they store their in the daintiest stars because the gravity the brightest ones

✡

you look like a bending to the aroma of caramalized walnuts and turquoise frosting

the spatula in your hand looks like a and you look like the i'm well-aquainted with

but i'm plighted to the voids

i want my to grasp the tip of your and make my stars bleed hues of neon and pastel and color my universe with the scar of your

your hair capers over your head like yellow tufts on a summer graced meadow under the wind of moonlight

i sit yet again in the coloured cafe corner but bathed in dolorousness with my beret veiling my eyes

for you are looking at me

your infused smile breaks away the asteroid belt until it bows to the orion's belt

what hope did i ever have?

but you are looking at me

your eyes of brown dust of look at me from the counter away from me but i can count every sidereal fleck of dark chocolate

w h y a r e

y o u l o o k i n g

a t m e

your gaze makes my thoughts fragment into gracile stars until they are tragic and crippled

so your beckon to me and i cannot combat the temptation to look at the cassiopeian tattoo inked on your wrist

when you see me saunter towards you, all the dainty and bolded stars in the night struck sky to the earth and adorned your lips

"how can i help you?"

"i- i- a cappuccino.."

my voice sounds like wavering on the moon, spiralling around your hands that make the most qoutidian sugar into creamy lullabies

i watch you and the on your delicate features and wintry diamonds etched in your star flecked nose

"do you want to see

something unique?"

"sure."

you drip dots of sauce on the foamy latte and swirl the dots so they look like cafe's

"it looks like a starved,

slanted W, doesn't it?"

"it looks like stars battered into

a constellation to fit the sky."

"all constellations

are tragic."