My planet

Last night I made up my own planet. It was small and blue and only big enough for one person. 

It wasn't big enough for oceans but it had a swimming pool. I decided I'd live on a sun bed, and I could, because the temperature would be remote-controlled, and it would never get too hot or too cold. I'd pack my cutest swimsuits and take a few books along. When I'd read each one a hundred times, I'd cut them up, separating every word on every page, and spend my days re-writing them. 

Its sky wasn't big enough for galaxies, but it had one constellation that would rearrange itself every night. See, I told you I was all alone over here, the stars were the only ones that would talk to me. I'm sure I'd talk back, and there'd be no one around to call me crazy. 

It wasn't big enough for years, so I rearranged whatever I had into my own equivalent of time: every heartbeat was a second, every breath was a minute, every blink of the eye was an hour, every sigh was a year... 

And then you came along, with the length of your smile disrupting the perfect balance of my land, your dancing feet setting off alarms, warnings that we were over the weight limit, your eyes finding mine and keeping still when they did, wrecking havoc in my perception of time. 

What sort of monster was this Love? That infiltrated even my most distant fantasies of solitude.

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