I ask for the galaxy in your eyes,
each constellation dancing
as we waltz in the Milky Way
of deepest desire. The maiden
moon playing jazz, the stars
welcoming us in a night
of hopes and dreams. I could
not see why the sky could be
this mysterious like a woman
with all her secretive smiles,
witness the chorus of constellations
trying to embrace the melody
and rhythm we used to believe
as an idiopathic pain lost in
reveries we hid in our hearts.



First published in the Literary Yard

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