7/10/14
It’s in the final verse of your favourite song, a triumphant swelling of notes leading you to an empty contentment. The ephemeral lingering of fire as you wrap your winkled hands around your Sunday morning mug. I see it in your smile as you see her, your eyes as you watch him, your heart as you fall deeper. It’s in the first cry of a miracle, the quiet gasp of lingering hands on skin as you explore the world that is designed for perfection. How is it present in the carving of one line two circles, joyous celebration of a promising future, but also in the pitch of sunken rows of tired laughter and running memories? In the same way that it holds your lungs as you sink into your first love, your first everything. IN the way that it brings itself in the form of uncontrolled bubbling to the darkness of your mind. You’ll find it locked up deep within a faded photograph, a key, a necklace. I see it when I see you. It lives in the minds of the greatest thinkers of all time - in those wise beyond their years for keeping it constantly thriving through magical imaginings. It’s in the beckoning of your duvet as you curl closer to its comforting mould, a sunset of beauty as you rest your weary head against life itself. It’ll find you when you least expect it. When you are riding blind, when time seems to have completely ceased being. A thousand glances carry both sides up and suddenly you are forced into it - almost willingly, almost reluctantly. Sometimes I forget what you feel like. Sometimes I forget the yellow taste of sweet honey that you bring. Sometimes I forget the scented vanilla, the burning candle, the helpless giggle - all the while wanting you to consume me. I hope I never lose you. Not even if I tried.
