all the places we argued with smiles underneath

She said if you wanna go stargazing then stare at the sun. And I thought to myself boy she has a way with words. But I had a way with living things so I did. I stared at it, right at it, the sun.

And predictably I went blind.

But twenty years later my vision returned. Like that professor in the obituary today. Only, it didn't happen during cataract surgery, it happened one night while staring at the moon.

We were in a field on a blanket. She had been straddling me, climaxing, crippled with intensity, aching against gravity, relented, slowly lowering her torso down onto me like a descending cherry blossom. And I felt her bosom against my chest, could smell her melted skin and oil roused hair with all the energy of a heightened sense.

Then like that, I was no longer blind.

Penetrating the darkness and coming through a black pocket to another outside I arrived in a light whose radiation had worked the magic of time upon the barks of trees, blades of night grass, and her face held close to mine gasping for breath and emanating rosy hues from her skin.

My first sight, a sight reborn.

Her face. Her face, a closer glimpse of her face appeared interwoven within all this touch, sound, sightless love, far more beautiful than I ever remembered. 

Then outpouring tears streamed from animate ducts, alive eyes, and I could see hundreds of her through the droplets of mutual recognition that like a canvas background were decorating her ocean portrait there with all those trillions of stars dappling space as sparkling electrons shimmering at night to the ones, the one, you can stare straight at and into long after she has given you everything, including her final bow, as she goes on travelling at the speed of light.