with nothing but the stars

It seems so long since my heart has done backflips. I've taken to sighing over cups of tea, listening to songs I've long stopped dancing to. And smoking always smoking.

I tend gardens, cook elaborate meals,study the lines on my hands. Ocassionally I catch a hazy face between the folds of skin.

From palpitation to dull throb. I go sleeveless through these summer days.Everything worn like shoulder pads slides down my wrists and into my palms.

This ship charts the known and unknown. Between sleeping and scrubbing I search for stars between newspaper and peices of sky.