by Kailah Peters
What the Stars Can't See Part 1
Stars are bored creatures, watching earth like we watch television. They love to peer in on intimate moments, but their perspective is limited by rooftops and awnings.
The poor stars will never know of me and you, not truly.
They see us walk to the train,
but we don't hold hands in public.
They see me hold the door open for you
but miss us flirting over sushi.
They see you help me with my hood as we leave the restaurant.
They know we will walk to get hot chocolate then walk back to my place.
But they don't know I kiss you in private.
Maybe they have suspicions. Maybe they can tell from the way I look at you. Maybe the stars know we are lesbians but don't bring it up out of politeness.
Do you think tonight we can sit on the back porch? I want the stars to see me holding you.
What the Stars Can't See Part 2
The room is dark. No one speaks except the movie screen. Her hand is inches from mine and all I can think is she's beautiful.
I try to breathe in the courage to touch her, but courage must be absent from this thin air. She is beautiful, and I want to hold her hand.
She is beautiful, and I want to unfold myself before her. I want to write myself into a novel so she can leave funny comments in the margin.
I want to tape those comments to my bedroom wall so I can always sleep next to her thoughts. She is beautiful, and I want to tell her that. I want to morph my lips to the shape of her mouth.
When our lipsticks bleed together the color is always a mess, but reddish-brown around her mouth has never looked better. She is beautiful, and I want her
I want her
I want her.