{ Outer Space }

There are constellations on her skin

and a universe in her mind

Comets appear when she speaks

and there is a symphony in her eyes

Someone told her she was too much

and she told herself she was too little

Will she yell at the sun for burning too high?

Or scream at the moon for being too small?

Her eyelashes flutter, sway, and fray

in the rhythm of explosions a galaxy away

It is told that the world did not know beauty

until it cradled her in the crooks of branches

that made up her favorite stories

All I ask is that you plant rose petals

between the breaks in her arching spine

Plant in her saplings of self worth

and to nurture her when hot tears fall

Her skin is delicate and cracks

as easily as porcelain

Do not burn craters into her heart

with rays made only of fingertips

Her wandering eyes may be moonlight crescents

and you cannot simply have it for yourself

for you have enough light of your own

And the moon may move around the earth

but you have always called yourself a sun

And she burns brightly, fading as a star

not changing when she leaves; what's done is done.