Our Asteroids


The boy with the salt-and-pepper hair does not want to dig into my soul
and sleep in its hollows, like
the rose on the little prince’s asteroid.
Instead he asks naught
but what I think of what he said—
tells me only nonreligion binds us—
And I want to cry because

as I try

to move amongst his soul
he nibbles on my skin



Note: Originally written October 28th, 2014
      Edited February 20th, 2015





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