You carry around your love in a paper bag, dipped it in beeswax to keep it from the prying hands of the heavens, hoped that neither rainfall nor teardrops can rip through the brown skin God so haphazardly threw over your beating heart, you have always wondered why they made you so fragile and thin, so easily broken into, all it takes is a spot the size of a lesser god to tear at the tectonic plates you have for ribcages, molten rocks and rips in the fabric of space lying flush underneath, moving and contracting each time you breathe, you're an unsteady universe ready to implode the more you try to prove you exist, a smaller galaxy, a byproduct of the Big Bang, but not Andromeda, not the Canis Major, not Milky Way, not anything that's been given a name, given the right to be remembered. But you carry your love everywhere with you anyway, arms uncertain around that beating stronghold in your chest, you exist the same way you love. in secrecy, in heaps, endlessly.
