the boy with the space socks

he sleeps on the floor

he hugs my arms and holds my cheeks

and picks daisies from my palms

he weaves skies around my fingers

makes me pretty rings

the sunflowers in his shoes

keep falling out, growing from his toes

his hair is in my mouth

and it tastes sweet

his legs are intertwined in mine

our limbs are knotted

he holds the shattered pieces of my heart

the constellations in his chest

are in me

i cannot get free

my cut up hands and weeping orchids

grow soft and fragile under his touch

the universe dances on his fingertips

the stars spill from his lips

and i want to trace the galaxies

hidden in his collarbones

count the stars even he can't see

the pretty boy

and his space socks