I just need some space, he said.
How much? How much space?
because I think the space between our fingers is just enough.
and I’d give you all of space,
stars and moon and sun and sky,
galaxies and nebulas,
all nine planets
(because Pluto still counts)
if I knew that you would come back to me.
and there’s an infinity between
when my cheek’s pressed against your chest
a million molecules in the middle
skin and bones
blood cells and muscle
separating your heart and mine
so tell me
how much space do you need?
because a million molecules
seems more than enough to me.