A Moment

So many late nights that I’m becoming more used to sleeping in the sunlight, which is slowly eating away at my marrow. You’re leaving bruises all over me, on my skin and soul, these little gentle aches that remind me of my humanity. The magic you possess rattles in my brain, pushing through the thoughts of pain and deep-set insecurity to find the pieces leftover from others. Take them, break them, make them yours. But leave me mine. I will never belong to anyone but the universe again. And yes, of course, it is hard to say I love you, but it’s because I can’t always love me. But god, it feels so right to see the sunbeams in your eyes light up softly when you look at me, the ways your smile changes are incredible. Nothing belongs to me, but if it did, you’d be mine. I can hear your footsteps and when they approach me, the drumbeat of your heart bangs so loudly it reverberates against my skull. The connection you’ve given me feels like a golden chain, a leash and a safety line. This is so new but so familiar; you and I have been here before, with other memories and hopes. All failures. The quiet quickness of our stolen moments ring with possibility and it terrifies me. Maybe maybe maybe.