There’s perfection in all the lumps and bumps
And curves and angles of my body,
If only for the fact that they’re mine.
And who are you to tell me that the shelter
Of meat and earth and stars
I temporarily find myself in
Doesn’t do its job of keeping me whole?
I’m not tearing apart at the seams.
I promise you I’m not.
I know I’m made of stardust
I hold the universe in my eyes,
Planets orbit my hands
Comets live in the soft glow of my smile
And shooting stars are seeped into my skin
I am space raspberries and rum
And heavenly choirs
And celestial intent
And cigarettes
For someone told me once that shooting stars
Are really just angels throwing away their cigarettes
Before God could catch them smoking
If only for the fact that they’re mine.
And who are you to tell me that the shelter
Of meat and earth and stars
I temporarily find myself in
Doesn’t do its job of keeping me whole?
I’m not tearing apart at the seams.
I promise you I’m not.
I know I’m made of stardust
I hold the universe in my eyes,
Planets orbit my hands
Comets live in the soft glow of my smile
And shooting stars are seeped into my skin
I am space raspberries and rum
And heavenly choirs
And celestial intent
And cigarettes
For someone told me once that shooting stars
Are really just angels throwing away their cigarettes
Before God could catch them smoking
I love it Syd. Truly. I love the universe talk, the stardust and planets and comets, it makes it feel bigger than us. Know what I mean? And the idea of angels sneaking in a quick cigarette while the boss-man's busy, never thought of that before lol
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