A hitch in my breath.
The image of you.
Your figure before me,
Materialising.
Speckled stars of various shades
Pulling together, and you, in the
Centre, your silhouette.
Gravity to which the
Scattering of little lights is
Drawn.
I could reach out,
Trace my finger along the curve of your cheek,
But the stars beneath my finger swirl and scatter.
Moving. Swimming away.
I press my palm against the glow of your skin.
Believe for a moment that I can squeeze the distance between us till it
Crumbles,
A paper margin between your hand and mine.
And it looks to be so, my touch pressed against the image of you.
Your static coursing through the wires that feed the sound of your universe into my ears.
I close my eyes, forget that they are but a mouthpiece.
That the pixels scatter and swirl and swim,
And paint but an image of you.
