the beauty of stars

Last night I swept my hands through the sky
and pricked my fingers on stars.
Here. I will show you the holes
pierced and cauterised by points of light.

You look at me and I can see
myself, reflected in the dancing glimmer
of your eyes: all soft curves
and diamond smiles and skin like jasmine
or baby's breath. And you,
you are a constellation
or maybe an entire shimmering galaxy.

You touch my wounds
and I ask, did you know
that beautiful things
hurt?