on dark days, he felt like stale coffee that got stuck on the roof of your mouth, something you consciously kept tonguing to remove but couldn’t

and on brighter days, he felt like a warm cup of tea pressed to your palms, a warmth you wanted to last much longer but couldn’t

he was the type of boy who’ll stay up with you ‘til 3am just for senseless banter because he knows it makes you happy

he’s a boy with arms you’d always feel homesick for, even if you were already encapsuled in them

he always liked to read you poems, bad ones and good ones, just to see you both annoyed and interested

the first time he held your hand, he held it so tight you forgot which hand was yours

on bright nights, it felt like love tracing constellations on both your collarbones

and on darker nights, it felt like love restricting your lungs to breathe

but whether it’s dark or it’s bright, it was always the kind of love that made your bones ache and your insides give up on you

it was the only kind of love he knew enough to give you