beneath our bones

i.

my eyes are red.

hers are blue.

she holds me and

reminds me that

we both see things

from different

perspectives.

ii.

she says there are galaxies

growing between my

shoulders and stomach.

that beneath

my saltwater skin

there are stars

sprouting out of

my spine.

iii.

i have ripped open

my flesh and

unzipped my throat,

and i still have not found

the milky way.

my eyes are black holes.

hers are blue skies.

she tells me i can't

see my own beauty,

like the wonders of the

world inside my lungs,

or the universe blooming

underneath my ribcage.

she says you are

what you love,

but i do not

love myself.