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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Emelyn Buttercup Koene


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acne scars

his acne scars formed a constellation across his face
the craters gave his skin depth like the Moon
his thick glasses framed perfectly his face like the lens of a telescope

tears gushed from his Neptune eyes
nothing assuaged the feeling that like Venus he lived in solitude
gravity would not allow his burdens to fall off his heavy shoulders
no one heard his cries in the blackness of space

like Pluto, he was silent and unassuming
like a black hole, his mouth was capable of the wildest atrocities
like the World, he was full of imperfections
like the Milky Way, he was grand and beyond human words for beauty
like the Universe, he would never be fully comprehended