His—
Orbs of moonstone,
a scintillating seafoam shade, mirrored with an opalescent glare;
Fragmented with crystalline bubbles of light.
Within, they hold a galaxy of tiny, technicolour marbles, glittering against the glaciers of your iris.
His twilight tongue, tinged with stardust—
Lips laced with a planetarium of constellation clustered promises.
We—
Converse in cosmic tongues;
A supernova of symphonies—
Cosmic wonderland:
a s p a c e j u n k language of sorts.
YOU ARE READING
spacejunk
Poetry'A lucid trip through the cosmos and constellations' ✦ · . ✷ ✦ ✦ · . ✷ ✷ ...
