on the planet of big means small, i gently stroke your cheek as you wake.  fighting my way to kneel beside your eyes, semi open, screaming “this was supposed to mean something to me.” breaking a little when the only right response is “I thought so too.” 

on the planet of a lot means a little, you dress in patience. ask gently with your spine “when the fuck are you going?” i answer, slamming hands against porcelain, scouring my mouth for the mint of you, “never never never.” 

on the planet of something means better than nothing, we ride wordlessly in the Uber one of us can’t afford. payment as hands splayed equally open,  conquerers of the middle seat, but not of holding. this waiting, a suspension of disbelief. the pads of his fingers, some man else’s in a different deepening swirl.

on the planet where we say let’s make it work, we won’t sleep together unless he can molt into me - so i scrape out my insides, spit on the remains, and swallow them whole, so I can dream of the planet where I’ll know what twice full feels like.