My heart is torn in two
But I still can't give one half to you

I kissed his lips at midnight and somehow he convinced me that Sunday mornings were made for bacon and cuddles and Saturday nights shouldn't be spent crying yourself to sleep

I kissed his lips at midnight and I learned what it feels like to have someone who truly wants you in all their timidity, someone who is ready to lift your chin up and grab your face and lean in despite height differences

I kissed his lips at midnight and I realised that sometimes the best decisions are made spontaneously, out of the blue in the middle of the street with hands intertwined as if we knew each other for ages when really it was two hours

I kissed his lips at midnight and my heart was left in his hands, because those kisses continued until Sunday at four thirty pm and since then he's all I can think about

We are fragile, little things.
Chipped china teacups
In the hands of careless kings.
Caught in the fall,
Cherry blossom dreams,
The sighs of autumn
Keep us aloft on weathered wings.
Tethered to the will of winds
The water shouts and sings.
Overflowing that fragile teacup,
Scalding the hands of world worn kings