Your disc was too small
to eclipse my smile;
the pebble that made no splash.
With your light you
brought a complexion
out of me, a sheen to my dark side.
At our perigee our
electromagnetic fields met
like rippled fingers
through beach sand.
With your solar-wind muffled
whispers you spoke of my
beautiful surface - the luminescence
that drew you into my orbit.
Our elliptical dance
seemed so natural, yet
you never showed me your cratered
faceless side, the Dr. Jeckyll to your
With astronomic precision
and unevolutionary speed
you found yourself drawn to
Jupiter, a power sure to
put mine to shame.
When night turned to day
I couldn't see you in my gaze,
nothing but a trail of your
pearl-dust beyond my gravitic grasp.
In that galactic white noise
you wrote me notes and said -
"Your gravity wasn't strong enough,"
"Your blues pale in his hues,"
"You see a sky different than mine."
I felt my atmosphere dry
when you told Venus of your new orbit;
how your cratered surface reflected
his perfect browns and reds without flaw.
My tears deepened my oceans
and my revolution slowed -
I waited for you to go ahead,
one less blemish in the constellations.
When I thought I was about to freeze
in my own moon-less misery the sun
reminded me of my beauty.
I could still shine, even without you.
You can have Jupiter and his
size, his booming electromagnetic voice,
browns, reds and perfect orbit.
You can have the warmth of his rotation
and the friction of his stormy surface
as well as the company of his satellites.
When you fall into that compressed
liquid hell don't expect me to pull you out,
you wanted it, now you have it all because you
cannot escape that turbulent spell.
In your eyes I'm sure he has so much more than I,
But I have one thing both you and he lack: