I do not belong to you 
in the way you belong to me.

I saw this in an amber sunset,
the slow burning against
a shimmering summer horizon.

We were waiting for the stars,
for your hand to slip into mine
and softly squeeze as you took 
in your favorite constellations,
speaking of each one as if they were a friend, 
a loved one or lover you never had 
the chance of say goodbye to.

And I wondered if I burned among them,
if my glow was a deep secret to keep,
a hidden light threading through your veins
or if I am something much darker
hidden among these soundproof heavens.

Maybe I am not supposed to ask.

Maybe I am supposed to say more.

I do not belong to you 
in the way you belong to me.

I saw this in a vast night sky,
the slow burning lights that have
spent lifetimes to keep a faint
and beautifully flawed shimmer suspended.

I always wanted to study the stars,
this confession fled in your husky whisper
as your hand began to clench mine tighter,
and I pursued the smaller and unseen things,
cells, particles, numbers, flowing vessels,
to reach the same understanding you sought,
the unknown center of what makes us.

You spoke of each constellation as if
they were a life lived before me,
and I remembered everything at once,
breath and words carved into skin,
love made until bodies became 
some unique naked origami,
an undeniable magnetism shattered,
an ache for you far greater than any
friend or lover that I will ever know.

And I wondered if I still burned in you,
if that fire scorched so deep within
that it would always remain a secret,
a hidden flame threading through your heart
where we have loved and hurt the most,
or if I am something still beautiful to you,
something you cannot help but always see 
strewn along these boundless starlit heavens
where I can never let the pain show.

Where I want you to belong to me
in the same way I belong to you.

Maybe I am not supposed to ask.

Maybe I should have said so much more.

Maybe I can still tell you everything...