I promise.
A pinkie swear of sorts that clasps on my lungs
and makes my breath grow heavy.
You sigh.
Fingers becoming fluid as they trickle around my waist
and make promises about a nonexistent forever.
We're stupid.
So ignorant we can barely comprehend the word,
but than again no words make sense.
Eyes close.
Cartwheeling farther away from unfamiliarity
and approaching the inevitable detachment.
It's coming.
Denial is a cruel parasite that builds comfort
when future distance grows with each heartbeat.
But I promise.
With a failing prayer that pinkies cannot be broken
and that hearts and promises are invincible as well.

My heart explodes.
But not in divine agony
or with one defiant bang.
In pulsing bursts
that are either too heavy
or too light to comprehend.
You squeeze me tighter
to level them into patterns
and restrain the danger you've created.
And somewhere along the way
my brain feels the vibrations
and calls it love.

There's only so many ways to cry
and only so many corners to hide in
outside your illuminated little head.
When the tears kiss your ruby cheeks
or trickle to the concrete
the realness will inevitably snap back.
But, if you truly try to,
you can sob and wreath forever in your mind
and still never have to stop to breathe.

I don't think you know.
Every 2 AM call,
with your patient chuckles guiding me out of slumber.
Every hasty kiss,
as one of us wanders off to meet less important people.
Every reassuring sweet nothing
that makes my paranoia and ignorance sleep for one more day.
Every waist grab,
and head cradle and neck kiss and palm trace.
Every tying of gazes,
That makes me drown in something too deep to know
means more to me than you or I can ever begin
to understand.

There is nothing more wonderful
than the way you nuzzle into my hair when you sleep.
And the way your mouth hangs in an infinite yawn
that doesn't quiver when I kiss it.
And the fact that you can't see the adoration stumbling out when I look at you,
But it's still real.
I'm caught in our ginormous yawn of a love, and isn't that beautiful.

In your car, you can set the color of the lights.
And sometimes we shuffle through all of them at once in a flurry,
But pink has always been my favorite.
So that night, when we parked a block from my house, and because of my own doubt
I cried, and cried,
And you held me, and held me,
I looked up, and the lights were pink.
I asked you why, and you said because they were my favorite of course,
And nothing could've ever said I love you louder.