Galaxy girl

This is a little something I wrote during mah history class, because I was bored. :) I hope you like!


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And there we laid, painting pictures in the sky, dipping our fingers into love, laughter, and stardust, and smearing it across the deepest shade of blue. Stars gathered into my hands and were promptly tossed into the sky, my irises widening to fit in the glow of the paint. I reached into the bucket of colored marbles, each with a different name. I poured them into the sky, but not too close to each other. Beauty is best separated. It was late at night, but I didn't fall asleep, for fear that my work of art would escape me. It wasn't exactly fear in my gut, but knowing. When I awoke, the sky would no longer glitter with the paint I had smeared: it would be replaced by a blank blue canvas on which little could be painted. The flickering lights of an airplane were removed from the sky, along with from my mind. Civilization would be absent tonight, from the middle, front, and back of my brain. Not even a quiver of thought in my cerebellum. As I lay on the grass, my body was the milky way, a galaxy. My eyes burned with the sun's flickering flame, not even burning out or fading with the blink of my eye. Despite the cool night air, the sufrace of Mars heated up my blood, the power of the rings of Saturn coursing through my veins. This power was stronger, more raging, than any adrenalin could promise. Funny: the galaxy was filled with the absence of gravity, yet I was gravitating into orbit with the planets. No longer was I the artist, but now part of the painting.

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