Supernova

Leaning over, my glass
Hand touches yours.
A pause, but brief,
(one
two
three)
I grit my teeth as
Nebulae expand, contract.
This coup, small gesture,
Ripples, chimes,
Ripping through your breaths
And mine,
Aching full of honeydew,
Water vapours,
Rendezvous
Between these walls,
All lily white, pastels, green tea.
Brings home
My insubstantiality.
You draw the line, I
Graze my scars. Lips down,
Eyes tight. I’m seeing stars.
A stronger grasp is
Fragmentation.
My sterile heart’s
Alienation cannot sting worse than 
If we shattered; our dust as one
Is all that mattered.

The End

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