I can feel rivers running through me, all leading back to you. Your fingertips coming and going like waves. They say you can make a home out of anyone, but if that were true then I would’ve made my place in someone new a long time ago. I would’ve put my heart into someone else’s hands, letting them mold it into whatever they wanted. I would’ve broken down the walls you forced me to build. I would’ve cleaned up the mess you created, making myself seem pristine, when in reality I’m a hurricane nobody wants to get in the path of. But I realized, things that come back to you are things that never truly left. So here we are, standing outside of my car with our feet glued to the gravel, your overgrown hair loosely moving with the wind. The streetlights are glowing on our skin, and there’s stars trapped in the corners of your hazel eyes. I realize I’m okay with drowning in these rivers, as long as they always lead back to you.