Even the biggest,
the brightest of stars,
burns e’er so dim,
compared to you.
For you are a star,
not in the making;
you are a star
in all of your being.

I would burn my lips
for a taste of yours,
send my hands to ash
to caress your flesh;
I would sweat your flares
and cremate my soul,
to fly upon your
solar winds once more.