I can see the stars in your eyes
Burning with the passion of a thousand flames-


Or is that the reflection of the television I see?
Your eyes are fixed on it, even as I hover before you.

But no matter,
Your fingers move with fervor and skill
Finesse, even, as you
Push, slide,
Stroke gently
Across the delicate curves of
Your PlayStation 3 controller.

"Please, Babe."
Your voice is strained
Barely more than a murmur as you continue,
"Move your head, I'm trying to play."

Softly, I sigh,
Settling back down onto my side of the futon,
And turn away.

For what are stars
But distant
Balls of gas?

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