Like butterfly wings your eyelashes
fluttered
as gravity pulled me down to
kiss you,

your hands felt like cotton,
so I held them tighter,
afraid you would slip away in between
my fingers

I smiled
until my eyes hid behind
my cheeks,
not like frightened children,
but
like two stars in the shadow of
the most beautiful half-moon they had ever
encountered

Thoughts of
whose mad artist's draft you were,
were clouds that never crossed
my fields of grass
nor mountains

but I was always thankful
he never perfected you
because perfection never meant beauty

in the end of light,
you remain the only one
who has heard me whisper
"as do I"