Of All The Stories I've Written, I Share With You, Stranger, These Few

Moon-Laced Silver, Sun-Kissed Gold, My Darling Lets Lay Among the Stars

And as you carry my finger
over the outline of Orion,
I will be watching your lips
talk about Artemis and her hunters,
giggling at yourself
as you stumble over words
because my hands are warm
and all you want to do
is trace over my scars,
and ignore Orion completely.

And then it'll be long past the hour of exhaustion,
and I'll carry you to bed,
not even bothering
to exchange our jeans for sweatpants
and our dress shirts for camisoles
as we tangle our limbs
in an unsolvable knot
to solve in the late Saturday morning.

So let's lay among the stars,
and as we smack the mosquitos off of our skin,
you'll kiss my infected bug bites better.
Because you always make the itch go away.

And under the stars
we will know that life is
finite, and meaningless,
and yet so very infinite,
and so very meaningful.

And as you call me your 'moon-laced silver'
and I call you my 'sun-kissed gold',
we will debate
over the conception of the world,
of life itself,
eroding away our teeth
with sour candy and sweet wine.

So let's lay among the stars,
and I'll sing you
the sweetest of melodies I can conjure,
lulling you to the softest of slumber.

And we'll laugh harder than ever before.
And we'll love more than ever before.
And it'll be utterly raw and beautiful.
So what do you say?
Let's lay among the stars.