Black and Blue
by Aleksander Meyer
I woke up to find galaxies dotting my skin.
I imagine that it’s the night leaving its mark to remind me of what I am,
Or perhaps the universe’s way of saying that it has not forgotten my sin.
Is it so wrong of me to dream of you under starry skies late at night?
I sometimes wonder why you don’t create your own constellations;
You ask permission for a taste of what should be your right.
I imagine that it’s the night leaving its mark to remind me of what I am,
Or perhaps the universe’s way of saying that it has not forgotten my sin.
Is it so wrong of me to dream of you under starry skies late at night?
I sometimes wonder why you don’t create your own constellations;
You ask permission for a taste of what should be your right.
