with you. With our fingers colliding
to make supernovas and our minds
oscillating with one another, like light
waves that never fully touch. Let my
hair run along the soft of your flesh
and let my cheeks brush against the
clinquant rhythm of your heart. I’d like
to orbit around the movement in your
shoulders and neck, memorizing the bends
and twists until it is the only path I seek
until the death of our sun. We can expand
far enough to reach the limit of our existence,
pressing our palms under the ceiling
where God resides, and watching the
tips of our fingers turn a fiery white.
Expel the oxygen from my lungs, here
is my heart, hold the very things that
keep me alive on the tip of your tongue.
--Emily V., Adult