Constellations
by: Maya Wilson
I like holding your hand.
Fingers intertwining, veins pulsating
+ the comfort of knowing you care.
I like holding your hand because
I can count your freckles.
You laugh every time I point out
the milky way,
"No, silly, that's in the sky," you say.
"But don't you see? It's right on your hand!"
I like that your body is made of constellations.
Every freckle is another star bursting with
Brilliance
And every star is another reason to love you.
You are made of the stars, darling,
And I would never change a single one.
So when I hold your hands next,
Just let me trace your constellations.
It's entertaining.
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