every man falls in love with the sun right?
because he thinks
he can finally see himself for who he is;
bright, shining, golden—but he can’t really tell
at all where the light comes from sometimes
but he doesn’t care; it’s light.
ok, then he gets it, maybe, eventually,
sometimes, if he’s good:
there’s a sun inside us all burning hot,
and when we get real close to each other
it gets hotter and hotter and no one really knows
who started it—ever—until we’re all just stardust—