it is terrible the way i think of you so timelessly. it is so perilous to believe that humans are anything more than mortal, but you feel so much like god to me; and i’m not a believer. i cried to you for the first time, on some velvet morning. i told you i didn’t understand how your arms felt like the sky. that’s when you said to me, “This is only Earth, my love. This is only Earth.” i didn’t know what you meant, all i knew was that you felt more like home to me than anything ever had. i touched your lips for the first time that soft August evening some years back. your eyes were so alive, i swear you could stare at dead petals and they’d turn pink again, just for you. you told me stories without words about the places you’ve seen before you visited Earth. you never spoke it, but i know we knew each other forever ago. every secret ever kept lives in your sweet smile. your chuckle says you know things i haven’t found out yet, or maybe i just don’t remember. you told me my soul was so old, but i am still so young, so pure. you said i reminded you of a flower. maybe it was because when you looked at me i turned pink again, just for you.
the last time we saw each other he told me that he was leaving, he knew we couldn’t be together in this dimension. i asked him when i would see him again, but he didn’t say a word, he only smiled his warm smile as i stained his shirt with tears and “please stays.” When he left, it felt like i’d fallen out of heaven. for a while i buried my head in empty rooms, where faint whispers still echoed from wall to wall. i can see now that this farewell was almost bittersweet, but i could only feel bitter. i knew that i would never see him again in this particular life, but i finally understood what he meant when he told me, “This is only Earth, my love. This is only Earth.”