Dragonfly22

there is something about the night that makes me want to fly. once, i had a dream where my fingers could touch the sky—and i pulled down the stars from the velveteen darkness to stitch them into my skin. i was nebulae; a smoldering quasar as the universe flowed through my ravenous veins. a supernova landed on my tongue and the bittersweet taste of one million galaxies circulated into my soul. in that moment, i became the cosmos— with asteroids in place of eyes and pluto orbiting between the confines of my ribcage. my wings are made of stardust and luminescent constellations. with them, i will soar higher than any god ever