I've spilled your name and my feelings on fallen lashes and wishbones. I've read 1950s love letters and wondered if we would've had exchanged some had we lived that time. I've stayed up late in air-conditioned rooms; a ****** for midnight voice between your broken smiles.
But boy, this isn't a confession of how enchanted I am of you. This is just me realizing that somehow, you can make a dismal world look a little less messed up; god, you're beautiful for it.
This is just me realizing that I can stay with you for all the reasons they left you for.
This is just me realizing that I can fall for you, so, so deep, if allow myself. and feel like I was falling to the clouds. Boy, this isn't love, but somehow, it's so much more.
This is a saving grace wrapped in chipped nails and stories that make you feel more human. This is a silver lining. This is chance. This is light, This is hope for damaged people like us.