Pink sharpie

a constellation stained across my knuckles

the scrawling sketch scratched haphazardly in a crowd

you eyes trailed the pen

I found your gaze just before it dropped.

Time passed.

Hours out of the day 

sun rose and set

knitted socks against a thinning carpet,

I braved the cold.

It was years before you followed

years or minutes, I can't quite recall.

In the jaundiced overhead light

moths flickering 

a dusted balcony the velvet box of a gem;

a shining moment.

You moved closer

the grating scrape of metal chairs

a mere breath away,

but the space between us spanned miles.

As clouds gained weight,

we filled the gaping chasm with words.

Before a bruising, sodden sky

whispers built a bridge.

You crossed it with no hesitation,

fingers delicate on my skin

barely there

a caress.

Nails traced the lines I'd laid down

the stars on my hand the only ones visible that night.

The ink has faded

but your touch remains

brighter 

warmer

marker just doesn't compare.