They'll need rockets to reach us,|
the way you perch your love
upon that hearth (your heart above the earth)
for it is far beyond their reach.
Your enamoured soul — enormous,
and bright as the sun —
is chased by my lunatic desire
and although we are worlds (yet only words) apart,
your gravity feeds my dementia.
And from collapsed dimensions
we are brought closer together,
as the events (the evidence of the effects
of the cosmic forces between us)
cast a shadow upon (our morals) the mortals.
And to them it appears the pair of us
fit perfectly together
like we were made to go together.
I want to hide you from them
until only your halo is visible,
but keep chasing you, never touching,
in a planetary syncopation