In A Constellation

Our first kiss

felt like a supernova,

explosive and iridescent,

scattering my universe

with cosmic dust.

I instantly fell head first

into a black hole.

You ran your astral fingers

lightly all over my face

as if you wanted to memorize

every crevice, every flaw,

for when you had dreamt

with the cosmos that night.

The way you simply

appreciated me,

as if you had witnessed

the Big Bang

with your very eyes.

You understood my boundaries,

not letting gravity force you

to cling onto me

every second

as the earth rotated.

Like the asteroid belt,

we stuck together through

an invisible force called

mutual respect.

We may have been

different celestial rocks,

but we were always

in the same orbit. 

Yes, we argued,

but like the moon,

we had our own phases.

After all,

we would still be in a

synchronous rotation

once we worked through it.

When we communicated,

we discovered that

we connected in ways that

stars in a constellation

never could.

You always told me

that the stars swimming

above our heads

was like our trust for each other;

intense and forevermore.