by Caitlin Copland Galaxies are breaking from your skin, love.Purple clad mystics, climbing stairwell veins,to breathe the tides of your good graces.Resting behind midnight blue arcanayou sit,Venus,crowned in sanguine stardustpouring seeded life over this half moon diadem.You are all things I am not.Holding this pomegranate worldwith open generosity,calling all those in need to drink.How could…