I am fragments, pieces of me orbiting around and around the piece of you. Not dizzy, or misplaced, but light, and slow, muted like time is cupped in the palm of your hand and you're pulling it around us an unsteady protection, your fingers a blessing where they brush my skin.

We are a meteoroid, spiraling lazily until something larger and stronger than ourselves rips us into a sharp plummet with friction and reckless speed and we burn away-

Yet still I search the ashes and find you; begging pleading wanting you to return with me-take me back up to that flawless endless space; take time in your hand and me in your arms and let me orbit you with a reverence I never had for any god

-(and perhaps we will touch the stars)
(-o. a. p.)