When the day comes where I find you,
I’ll lead you to the back porch where we can sigh with the stars.
I’ll dip my fingers in their milky haze until the galaxies cling to my fingers with unrelenting attachment - art class glitter and glue.
I’ll unfold our clenched palms like the tattered, dog-eared, so-loved collection of glovebox atlases that they are.
I’ll hold my sparkling skin against yours to repair a rift and light our way -
Until we both know the road home by heart.