I saw you in my reflection once. You were yellow in the golden hour and you shined like you were baptized in glitter, and I could’ve sworn right then and there that time stood still. Every clock in the house stopped at once, and I knew that meant you were something born out of everything I find perfect in this world. I stuck my hand out and offered to pull you through, but let’s be honest, if something is perfect, we should keep it right where it is. But it never works like that. Someone gets selfish. Someone starts a fire that they can’t put out, lights a match that shouldn’t be lit, dowses every crack in the concrete with alcohol. We didn’t care how dangerous we were, we just wanted to say we felt something. We wanted to dance. So we danced, and danced, and danced until our sweat felt like rain clouds. Like rain clouds. Like rain clouds. Drip drop onto our hands and knees and pray all night like God was listening. Like it meant something. Like we’d both not care in the morning when the war was over, but we had to go and pick sides. We were so young then, when we thought that actions spoke louder than words and we took each other’s hands and looked into the mirror, that morning, and kissed each other on the cheek. How innocent. How sweet and beautiful. And innocent.