Needs a new title.. Anyway- both this and the previous two are adaptations of friends' stories. :)
His eyes were luminous planets behind his glasses.
When his eyes blinked, there was an eclipse.
They shone, Venus on a clear moon night.
They swirled, they drove, and the atmosphere
atmospheric pressure, no, gravitational pull
we were planets in rotation, dance of death rotation
The old ones say, you should've known
but the moon really was a mistress
named for gods, don't you see?
She ran after him, she chased him and he fled
in his rotation, he fled, but Venus
was a woman and is a woman, and bleeds
I am ready for love, I am ready for love
but there is no sound in space, no atmospheric
pressure, only black tangles and Mars who was man
We're flawless, no, not even the moon, though, no
but we aren't human. Anymore, just truths
I can't kiss you here. There is no sound in space.
Biding his time, we bide our time, ovular time
and translations of actions in this soundless space
Venus is so bright and Mars glows red tonight
Planets may be the most beautiful people
(not people) in the world (not world)
but they are also the most doomed
God of fear, personification of terror,
her little planets circle her, moons are imperfect,
there is no sound in space, and love but not in love.
Heart of stone, body of stone, all matter
last man, it matters, dance and circle and will
eventually collide. So they say.
A keeper of tales is not the same as a prophet
who reads these motions and silence in space
who reads these harsh prophecies
and smaller rotations.