GALAXIES

 Galaxies.She's all the galaxies.

Quicksilver runs through her veins and her eyes are the black holes.

Observing.

Stars dangle at her neck. Her throat is exposed to constellations of eloquence.

Her ankles harbour the moons of planets from afar, painting them with comet fires that trail across her stomach and thighs.

Her words are stardust and she, his wanderlust and her lips could draw sun out of solar systems.

Shooting stars patterns her wrists with intricate imperfections, for galaxies are not perfect. They are magnificent and mind boggling, but not perfect.

And he? 

Yes, he says "for the sake of heaven's love, I love your perfect imperfections"

And she?

She is just all the galaxies for him as she runs her fingers through his dark chocolaty hair and he curls her up in his arms.

-MILI GUPTA