to the stars who listen: poetry

17. to sleep in the hearts of stars.

// 'The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff; we are a way for the universe to know itself.' -Carl Sagan //

shaking between warm blankets
I hear your voice, soothing,
a celestial lullaby,
a composition of the stars.
it emanates the sort of kindness
that illuminates the entire
Milky Way.
you resemble aurora borealis;
the magnificently luminous phenomenon of cold skies,
my northern lights.
clinging to your fingertips
is incandescent moondust
and I can still feel it shimmering
on my hand, where yours held.
I want to waltz along the crepuscular cosmos
with you,
to trace lunations with our fingertips,
to trace circles in the infinite
and sleep in the hearts of stars.
for the lustre of nebulas
could never compare
to the ethereal, gentle sparkle of your eyes;
I want to be safe in outer space with you,
where nothing could hurt us,
where we could form a constellation
and never have to let go.