for lying
diagonal across a bed,
encircled by arms
and fixed by eyes,
that inch by inch,
lock this memory deep into their head.
Pure beauty contained in a moment,
in a sigh,
in the brown eyes watching you.
Divine inspiration found
in the way fingers knit together,
by the warmth of breath
on a pale shoulder.
If I close my eyes again,
this may be gone.
I,
like so many angels,
have fallen from grace
and I fall faster than
stars through an atmosphere,
burning like sunshine,
burning like a cigarette ash
until I find the ground again.
There is something to be said
for stardust
falling from the sky.
Embers tumbling
with no understanding,
nor recollection
of how they became
or why.
Here I am,
wondering how those stars feel
when they slip
into the hands of gravity.
Do they feel this way...
when reaching across an empty bed
and brushing fingers
over the satin of a pillowcase...
waiting for that space
to be filled again.
If I open my eyes again,
this might still be real.
Brown eyes
and a hand resting lightly
upon my arm
as sleep settles on me
stir at the memory.
This day is closing down,
and I am a smiling mote
of stardust...
waiting to land.
