the only to make venus blush

To meet you was to know I would be waiting on a fixed heart.
It wasn't whiskey fogging me over, it was sitting across the white desk.
Seeing this familiar sight.
Reading your sharply lined stars and knowing those eyes going tight.  I couldn't right my pulse.

To be burnt and bound at once.
The want and the stop, the pressing and the pull.
This is what sat beneath our banter.
A first meeting,
a journeying of ten thousand stars constellating into the fold of a single sleeping valley.