We met at the hour of your birth,

when a mythos of uncommon words

were all we had.

We absently wandered paths

of peonies and forget-me-nots,

your slightest glance

flutters against my rib cage.

Let us be like meteors,

wrapped together in

harmony and fire—

fingers intertwined.

Your hand on my heart

is my hand, my eyes close

as you fall asleep.