And the stars winked at you because even they noticed how beautiful you were.
It was just me and you in the back of my worn out pick up truck that God knows how long before it turned to rust listening to the top 40 on that old radio above the dashboard watching the sky as if it could teach us something.
To forget the world and live behind the confines of our skull?
Perhaps.
It wasn't long before shooting stars streaked over our heads.
I didn't tell you to make a wish.
I told you how shooting stars are not shooting stars at all. But how they're mostly space debris, satellites and all kinds of shit we sent up their over the years.
How somebody's shooting star could actually be an old wrench whipping at a speed of seven thousand per hour. How they could be wishin on old pliers and ship fragments.
But you didn't care because in your world that old wrench was a blazing star racing towards earth and you had made your wish already.
That's when I knew that the sun sat in your stomach and the world hid in your eyes and galaxies grew in your chest and nebulas were trapped in your veins while the supernovas exploded with color in your mind as the moon admired the lightshow from your mouth.
Your lips were the galaxy's edge and when I kissed you I could taste the stardust on your tongue and when you kissed me back, fireworks exploded in the sky that was our stomachs and I admired the way when you tilt your head to the right, the world shifted a little.
I literally have no idea what this is. But all I can say is that wow I'm a horrible writer and that I'm new to this website so hi!
