Tuesday.

six hours smudging our names into constellations and rubbing clouds between our fingertips
we fought daybreak with imaginary swords, plunged the blade into that scorching, dying star
we grabbed the fading edges of that meteor spattered blanket and we jerked it over the horizon
but the sun fought back and we grew tired
and I could see the exact moment the magic of what we’d just done left your eyes
you fell asleep and I twirled blades of dew soaked grass between my toes
good things end for other people before they do for me.
you’d think that would be a good thing
but it’s worth more when it’s shared
with you.