two tattooed constellations,
shining under collar bones.
mines aries and his taurus.

the far from perfect stars,
blacked out ink on the skin.
lines bended under pressure
symbols deformed, re-shaped by time.

with all our imperfections they are perfect
mirroring ourselves, by plain accident
his fingers brushing under the fabrics
wouldn’t change that moment for anything.

single minutes passing by,
the music already stopped, but we stayed
frozen in the frame
shining under the sky, full of constellations.

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