you speak of uncertainty; qualifying the unseen holes that take you wherever one is supposed to go.
but i know.
and i realized i knew last night.
but i’m scared to hold it — the knowing. i’m afraid of it slipping through my fingers. or of it biting my hand. hands like my mothers. a dedicated red. that will just flash me away into oblivion whenever you feel my touch. a touch of something known.
because last night, you let me in. unafraid of the walls around you. highlighting your demons. rampant like a child on the verge of success. sharpening your wit at the flick of the blame.
but i couldn’t be prouder. of the troubled you | you poured out in front of me. you stumbled your words. your hurt eyes pardoned your pain. and i swam in the deepest sea i’ve even been in. unafraid. belonging to the water. warm and filling my body to sleep and hold.
so, now — i know.
that i can’t ever imagine a world without you.
that part of me feels like i’m meant to love you. and all of the times before were just ultimate truths, leading me through a possessed way; sickening and flesh — stigmas of textbook ailments — calculated cuts with dedicated seams, ripped apart right at the most precise moments ever, forcing me to be in front of you during all of those moments i’m ever in front of you.
never far from a smile.
your blue eyes burning my name into the cold.
darkening me to anything before.
shaping me into a radiant now.
the furthest i’ve ever been from anything i’ve ever known.
beyond the fence. to the other side.
with the freedom of knowing that we’ll never know anything, ever. together.