I want galaxies imprinted on my skin
spread all over my body until
they’re stretched too thin,
I want to feel countless constellations
of stars, planets, comets, meteors, dust
all pressing in,
like how you cover all of me so completely:
your hair in my face, my face in your crown,
our limbs impossibly intertwined;
your skin pressing in
until even our minds all but meld,
our souls are stitched into one.


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