By Tang Sumi
if you walk on the surface of venus, you can see the sun setting forever. i think about it, sometimes, you and i on dusty plains walking hand in hand, stubborn against the atmosphere weighing down on us. venus is not kind to us, all 460 million square kilometres of her, but we close our eyes and make her so. trip and fall into my arms, weightless in the moment, and we will skid down the insurmountable horizon. venus whisks us up but not away, flush against starlight leaning down to catch a glimpse of you. reach out, darling. brush your fingers against the shudder of lethal beauty. the void of space dances before my eyes, but i take your hand and breathe against the inevitability of it. this is, for all intents and purposes, heaven, just you and i chasing the sunset across barren plains. pretending we can hold it there forever, trapped in the eternal state of leaving.
Tang Sumi is a Year 5 Film student at the School of the Arts and was previously a Literary Arts student. Her poetry has been published in ZUBIR: A SOTA Literary Arts Anthology, although she often prefers to pretend her writing prior to 2018 doesn’t exist. The greatest discovery of her life was learning how to arrange words in a way that lets you sink into an atmosphere of quiet yearning, a single suspended moment in everyday life. She firmly believes that the pinnacle of reactions to your writing are incoherent keysmashes and the sobbing emoji.
Image: @njuri via Unsplash