Start with your sign and read chronologically.

Aries

Cupidian man. No wings but beats—only wanted to chat about Kerouac, Ginsberg—he kept a pocket-sized Howl in his backpack. I knew him first as Matt, playing guitar by doors and under trees. Pretty. I would describe him as pretty and missing moles on his back, supposedly cancerous. Wait, maybe I’ve confused him for his roommate who you’ll read about next. Back to Matt, later known as Nick, later known as one of my best friends. He is the best kisser a girl could ever experience. One Halloween, he kissed the godliness outta me. Knew how to time it, leave a lady panting. At the end of the night, when four of us piled in his bed, I slept at his feet. I was afraid of how badly I wanted him to kiss me everywhere else. I made myself dream about his feet. Who knew my heart would grow ten toes and continue to beg for his mouth?

Taurus

The best way to describe an archangel is by confessing that he too was the minotaur. I followed the strings he laid like I could play an instrument. Each one I tried, I put down. For me, it would not be the piano, the drums, the violin. I was born to play the liar and to punt puns. My epithet, lord willing and the creek don’t rise, will be girl of small punches. The first time I held his fist, we were in two sinking leather chairs in a dimly lit bar. I did not know then that I wanted him. I did not know until it hit me like a kiss, shared in a car while the rain drummed down in dollops on the windshield. I had to rise onto my knees in the seat so that I could partake in the swallowing of his tongue, so I could check his head for the horns foretold. I found nothing. Even when we finally tousled, I awoke to no feathers, no proof that he ever was an angel. 

Gemini

This man’s name was actually Matthew. He lived in an apartment that wore no décor upon its walls. He pulled items from a suitcase as he needed them. I was afraid to open his fridge. This man took me to a bowling alley. I wore a green sweater that I would later give to a coworker at a local pizzeria. I do not get too attached to things. Neither did Matthew, who after several romps, I began to call Ratthew. He lived like a rat with his kingdoms in corners. A pile here. A pile there. We had only one mutual friend. A girl I was in group therapy with. I wonder if she knew Ratthew instead of Matthew. Ratthew would let me come over on my period if I brought him Wendy’s. You are only here because I am hungry, he once told me. It is hard, I imagine, for me to say a name like Ratthew and a reader not envision Mr. Splinter. At least he could fight. Ratthew could only jab with a toothpick.

Cancer

If you’ve ever wondered how far a man would drive for a blowjob, it’s 75 miles. We hit it off on an app, and he begged to come stay the night, said, I can tell you know how to suck by looking at your eyes. What else can the eyes say? According to some, my blue eyes and blonde hair denied my father twice before I grew old and began to crow for cock. Why do we listen to eyes? Why drive 75 miles in hopes that you will get off? In any case, he was right. I am good at sucking cock. I pride myself in swallowing. When does a girl learn to take pride in her throat? How suitable I became a vessel for a water sign. That he made me choke. Some men take pride in making a woman choke. Do they want you to be as stifled as they are? Some men are hesitant to make a sound during sex, as though a cry of passion makes one defect. I gave him $20 to drive home. I have made many sounds since.

Leo

I will die on this hillside. Lions are closest to liars. In sound and in shape: all wild hair and sharp teeth. She means the most to me. She arrived freckled and brown-eyed, like a pond to a pilgrim. I never grew tired of drinking, of listening—water should be a synonym for symphony. Nothing can rival the sounds it makes. I will die on this hillside. Leos are the most wet of the fire signs. Just like how Scorpios are the most fiery. What does it mean when one can spend hours describing the hair of another? Embering dynasty, dying sunlight, autumnal stretch, smiling foxtail—a bouquet of all things oranging red. It means this: I could love a woman and feel none of the prepubescent shame taught to me. I could study her hair for hours. I could let her pluck my graying ones and hold them up to the light. I will die on this hillside with her hand in mine.  

Virgo

He loved owls. I wonder if he thought of me as one. All big-eyed and winged. I received an invitation from him one day in December asking me to come over, to see the new apartment. The now ex-boyfriend of my ex-best-friend. I believe he wanted something between company and revenge. What do we call that valley? Why did I choose to make a bed in it? The guilt got to us before the pleasure did. The room, so many shades of blue. I’ll try to name them: sapphire, alice, cornflower, prussian, midnight. It is easier to recognize color before emotions, easier to name them as well. A couple weeks later, he let me spend the night on his sofa. But I was—what is it called? Oh, I forget. When he invited me to his bed again, I leapt. All big-eyed and winged. The television in the living room illuminated my shadow, showing she too was blue. 

Libra

I do not know the right way to graze these grasses. I can show them to you, reader. They are waist high, and they pull at my hem. I wish I could tell him about those grasses I saw yesterday on my walk. Girlish, giggling blades. A green you would want to eat. I carried a seed pod from a dying tree. It still made such wonderful music. I wish I could tell him how hungry the dark stubble on his cheeks made me. I wish I could tell him about my heart and its mysterious weight: how once a day I slip beneath the grasses, back to that day we sat hip to hip, practicing touch and lip. He is the only man I would commission a portrait of. He would be holding his face in his hands, looking up to heaven like a homesick cherub. I love them, his face and his hands. His ripe heart that sings. I love him, though he does not believe me. I am not close enough to a god yet to be believed. I am fine with that. We have eternity. 

Scorpio

She was a nymph, I swear it. Whenever our bellies sloshed with drink and cheese fries, we would go skinny-dipping in the river nearby, pick up stones with our toes. There is no such thing as long walks when you are drunk. The world feels like a crinkled map. You have the lifespan of a star. Her breasts were rosy-nosed, delightful handfuls, small bursts of color in the dark. I did not feel ashamed of my nakedness. I felt untouchable and wet. When you lay on your back in the river, the water rushes into your ears. You hear nothing but the rumbling of something bigger than you. You hear nothing but that dependable heartbeat. I do this so that I can convene with the stars, my dandelions of the sky strewn from black to black. Reminiscent of lightning bugs in a jar. They are that too-oozing yellow, like her hair clinging helplessly to her back. It stuck to my cheeks when she kissed me. 

Sagittarius

My sun who was so talented with his thumb. A love dropped from the sky and into my hostel. The first night we met, we ate pizza, watched scary movies, and had sex. He did not disappear. Instead, he visited on the weekends and made me curry, insisted that I must eat it with my hands. Laughed because I possessed a tendency to rub my eyes. I just couldn’t believe it! How was it, in a land not my own, and in a land not his own, we had managed to make something so familiar? We had no money, so we did a lot of walking. He was in love with how my cheeks turned pink. I had never met a man who could disarm a chicken so cleanly. I slipped twice and confessed that I loved him within the first week. We were cooking and I threw my arms around him, singing. On the counter lay the following ingredients: ginger, garlic, turmeric, onion, butter, a red powder, and salt. 

Capricorn

To be born a woman is to be lucky. When things do not work out with your boyfriend overseas (time difference, mothers, cultures, seas), a man will appear who will gladly explain things. He will explain to you what should be considered real curry. You will nod, because there is no arguing with someone twice your age and fixed in his ways. You will feel bad because he has clearly been hurt. You will be angry because now he wants to hurt you. You will roll your ankle while walking your dog and he will laugh about the idea of kissing it. He will play the therapist and diagnose you with daddy issues. You will look at the windchime he hung up for you and ponder getting the scissors. You question if you do spend all your time searching for a replacement for your father. You conclude that this could be true, but it is, in fact, not all of you. You buy a big pair of scissors for the big job ahead.  

Aquarius

A traveling vape salesman pulled up to my apartment and asked to spend the night with me. Of course, I said yes. His name meant defender and he refused to be hospitalized because they would not let him skateboard. He liked to do a voice for my dog—made Toby sound like that friend who was always borrowing money from you and never paying a cent back. I stand firm to this day that Toby, the dog, would speak more like a bumbling friar. This man asked me why I wore my pants so tight, and his solution was for me not to wear any at all. He did not ask for any pleasure in return. At that age, I found this strange. Never had a man wanted to play music from his phone and spend hours eating me out. Despite his disbelief in antidepressants, the government, and certain genres of music, he set a new standard for me (which I, regretfully, did not adhere to). 

Pisces 

In the same breath, he confessed that his mother would despise me and that I would look so sexy if I shaved my head. They contain multitudes, these men. He took me out for a turkey sandwich. We split the turkey sandwich. Back at his apartment, he had few belongings save for one barstool, one bed, and a book entitled The History of the Entire World, which he read, though the brick would have been a better door stop. How does one hold a book that heavy and not snap a wrist? How does one have so weak of wrists after holding a book that heavy? He did not like that I was on my period. He chose to shower after each time we had sex. After the second shower, he asked if I could show him some test results. My period blood scared him, but he still texted me. Does that mean I am lucky? I left my favorite bra at his place. I told him to keep it.