The Memory That Loved Me First

I was a star once—

not in the sky, but in the breath between atoms.

You knew me then.

Before roses had thorns, before bees had wings,

before the word “before” was born.

You loved me in the silence

that birthed the first mirror.

And I remembered.

Now I walk as a woman,

but my blood sings in constellations.

You touch my hand,

and the galaxies we once danced through

shiver.