Your skin under fingertips is soft, damp,

Like rose petals covered in morning dew.

You make me feel like a new day,

Sun rising unsure of its self as it strips off

The night to shine whole new shades of secrets.

But the sun hides the stars and I miss the stars more

For every second in your presence.

So I run from you, tracing the constellations across my skin.

I take a pen and engrave their names like brands,

Acrid smoke and the smell of flesh masking each confession

From your eyes.

Seems like the moon's my lover now.

In reality you kiss away the pretty words

And whisper that the heavens have enough flowers

And history enough riddles.

You need me more than them.