Our tongues were a pair of matchsticks and we burst into flames
trying to ignite enough fire
for a second Big Bang.
You still kiss me like I hold the entire universe in my mouth.
Some galaxies are bigger than others, but this world
is far too small to contain us
because the distance between
/ my skin /
/ your skin /
will always be a billion light years too far
and people say wishing on stars only results in unanswered prayers.
I wished on the Big Dipper when I was younger,
asking for someone I could share all my toys with so I’d never be alone.
Years later, I recognized the same constellation mapped out
in the freckles on your shoulder the first time I saw you naked
and woke up the next morning
wiping stardust from my
(I knew they were wrong all along.)
Destruction is just another form of creation
and when our flammable kisses lit up in flames, we destroyed
the only Earth we ever knew.