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You told me once that I was made of stars. I didn’t believe you.
I asked you, “How could someone filled with so much darkness be made out of something so beautiful and infinite?”
You shook your head and chided at me for finding myself worthless. Then you touched me.
The mark of your hand rested warm against my bare shoulder, lined up with the now invisible scar of where your handprint used to be. You looked me in the eyes and told me about that time that seems so long ago, when you repaired my broken body, making me rejuvenated and pure once again.
You told me that my bones were made out of stardust, little glowing particles brought together, shaped by your very hands and formed into two hundred and six strong bones. My muscles and skin were made out of a nebula. My eyes, a particular bright star that you had loved from the beginning of creation. But you thought that its brightness would look better reflecting out of my green eyes.
My working organs, my heart and all the others with it you shaped from a far off galaxy that twirled and danced in the blackness of the universe. You took clusters of stars and planets, warping them into functioning organs that brought me back to life.
Then you glanced away from my eyes down at your feet, but your hand remained.
The freckles that dot across every plane of my body, you said were not made from stars, but your own lips. Freckles bestowed upon a human body are angel’s kisses, you said. And you met my eyes once again, hesitant but firm. You didn’t kiss me until your work was nearly done, the kisses done out of reverence for the beauty of what I had become, made of stars and galaxies. Then you breathed life into me, waking me from the blackness of death and illuminating my world.
Then I kissed you. I didn’t mean to, but the gravity of your words pulled me to you and I couldn’t hold myself back. I was overwhelmed.
“I believe you,” I said, when we pulled away, breathless.
You smiled at me, and the hand on my shoulder moved up to my cheek, your thumb gently brushing across my jaw.
“Always remember two things, Dean.”
“What?”
“You are made of stars and I will love you until the day I die.”