i carve
crescent moons
into doorways
draw little suns
in the dust
on windowsills
and trace comets
down the walls
of the hallway
on my way to bed

i see the stars
in your eyes
the swirling cosmos
lacks your depth
as sneak peaks
a wobbly lensed
hubble lost
in the vacuum
of space
my love pulses
ever hungering
a black hole
in my chest

i trace
the crescent moons
with my
callused hands
the comfort
worn smooth
as new dust
fills in
the tiny smiling suns
the tail of the comet
guiding me to bed
trying not
to fall too deeply
within myself
and lose sight
of your light

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