Stars Pulling Stars (Constellations Before Collapse #4)

*PUBLISHED AS ORIGINALLY PENNED ON 7/5/2025

Three months,
and somehow it feels like
we’ve been orbiting each other
for lifetimes—
stars pulling stars
just waiting for the right collision.

Your hands.
God, your hands—
please learn me like a map,
tracing routes across my skin
as if I’m somewhere you’ve always belonged.
But make every touch feel
like the first secret whispered in the dark.

I think about how we began:
a look,
a spark,
a slow unraveling of all the walls
we used to mistake for protection.

Now here we are—
building something softer
with our bare hands.

When we’re apart,
I don’t ache, not really.
It’s more like a slow hum under the ribs,
a quiet reminder that time is just
the pause between one kiss
and the next.

You feel like
a late-night sky I never get tired of watching —
endless,
strange,
achingly beautiful.
You make me laugh
mid-moan,
and melt
mid-sentence.

Three months in,
and I want more—
more minutes,
morning light tangled in your hair,
hands held under tables,
your voice saying my name
like it’s something sacred.

I don’t know where this leads —
but I know I want to get there
with your fingers laced in mine,
your stars in my eyes,
your breath in the dark
beside me.

And tomorrow,
when I love you even more,
remind me that it all began
with a single yes.