Rise,
You told me,
From that cold horizon of slumber I so often fall beneath.
I feel myself cooling
Down
Until I am just ready to collapse, thoughts becoming denser by the second,
Thoughts flying through the darkness with no sense or purpose, too far from their source to return home.
Instead they are joined to you in all you vastness,
You in all your gravity that can be felt from across the universe,
Hell, from across the room,
And suddenly the image is not so blurry.
You rise,
And so I must follow, though the sheets may plead me not to go. The coldness is swept away with the dust, my own personal nebula floating, waiting until it can form once more above my pillow.
Yet there you are again,
Luminously patient, bringing the warmth back to my bones.
And I, in all my atrociousness, bend back your ear with the woes of the evening. How numb I have become. Letting the birds of sorrow nest in my hair and demanding no rent. How dreadful I have been, losing my way in the abysmal labyrinth of my mind while you were gone. And through it all, there you are
Smiling,
Not believing for a moment that you are the center of my orbit, my reason.
And so I rise each morning, letting your warmth become my own.
I can stand tall at noon, my shadow behind and not within me.
I will fight to return home at night, afraid of what that world holds. But as things rise,
They must fall,
Only to be resurrected by the daylight.
This you remind me as you tuck me into bed, my atoms all in place, my mind at rest, as you whisper softly in my ear:
“You are like a book that I could never finish”.
