I feel the softly fluttering wings of my heart, like the singing birds of cold mornings where footsteps are as soft as ghostly snowfall. Your face buried in my shoulder, your breath turns my skin into warm velvet. Your hands bloom petals of warmth into mine where shaking stops and finds purpose in my arms.

I think "Okay, this is hopeless." just to find a new context to lie to myself in. I'll try to deny it for days, but it really becomes hours.

"Love is a neurochemical con-job," I think in intervals with your breaths. Your favorite song plays in the background, swept away into the wind and towards the moon smiling down on us saying, "I've seen this billions of times before. Just admit it."

I'll tell her to be quiet. I can't handle another heartbreak. She'll tell me this is different and I'll sigh out. Maybe. Just maybe.