It’s night and I’m thinking of you again. The way your head used to lay tenderly on my chest like a child and the simple contradiction of you, a man leaning on me, and how it made me suddenly understand the complexities of love, how we find ourselves falling into roles, filling holes with our bodies, our words, our hands, our hearts trying so desperately to be everything the other didn’t even know they needed. And isn’t that wrong, but so beautiful? How we bend and break and reshape the contours the curves the chaos in our minds to match another’s? No longer existing just to exist, but breathing believing becoming love in every single moment. It’s night and I’m thinking of you again. How we were so much so big so full of youth and life and how we never questioned hands in each others, lips in rhythm, legs tangled under blankets talking about a future we couldn’t yet picture, but promising forever all the same. It’s night And I’m thinking of you again, wondering if you still watch the sky for burning stars, play that same damn radio station and sing along, off-key, in that silly voice I always loved. I’m thinking about how I became a woman a force a mess a believer all in the safety of your arms. And maybe our wishes didn’t pan out, maybe we lost the game we never knew we were playing. But our love story is one I’ll never stop replaying in my head. Because who I became with you is woven forever into my being, and it’s night and I’m thinking of you again and I just can’t forget.
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