Hiatus
In between
my fingers grows
a field of paper
dandelions,
their petals all
tasting of
the moon inside your
veins.
I set fire to the galaxies
that spin inside my bones
and
I dreamt at night that
You’d swallow them whole.
But your stars are living
so far from mine,
even though they’re
fixed
right inside
my chest
singing me to sleep each night.
She was a dreamer, one with the moon tied around her waist,
but all she could feel was the rift of your absence,
tied around her neck
pulling harder than the moon ever could.
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