Stargazing

Poetry by Laith Bilal
Photo by Teslariu Mihai

When you are dark,
an intangible bruise of the violet night,
I'll be your howl of pain.
When you burn bright,
vigorous
enough to commemorate the death
of a thousand stars,
I'll admire; until you turn me blind.
At the death of your spring,
my veins are fields; entangled,

yours
to plow.

When you're drenched,
deep beneath the sorrows of January, my lungs
are yours to drown.
And when you're in loss for words, I'd dance, for eternity, to the music of your silence.
And when you're a raging ocean,
crashing waves the only glimpse of rebellion, I'll lie at shore, eager for your violence.

And if you were a statue,
I'd worship, in devotion, at your shadow.

Your sadness is mine,

a lifetime of perfect stillness I'd choose,
only so that if you were to speak;
I'd crumble
with joy,
at the touch of your tongue.

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