take me back to the garden, where the world was ours and we knew what to do with it— where every breath was sacrosanct, and our feet never left hallowed ground. where we’d lie beneath the heavens, counting stars, and i’d watch you give names to every single one. i long for those days of dancing, and dreaming, and never not believing. we were infinite and free; i ache for a time when we were royal, and we ruled like we were made to, like we wanted, because we could. intimacy was effortless, then, embedded in our blood; making love was some form of worship, and we were desperately devout. i would trade all the wisdom of this world and the next for one last eve of benighted bliss— take me back, i implore you. we’ll do it right this time.