You and I

You were a coffee stain on the bedside table.

Second hand smoke, a hand through hair, half asleep.

You were the slow dance, the lilies,

a constant, disrupting train of thought.

Loud but gentle.

A rocking carriage through miles of uncertainty.

You were comfort and euphoria.

And the space you left, I filled with myself.


I was the burning room,

The early morning rays through a stained-glass window.

Books, and softness, and doubt, still afraid of fraying in the night.

I was the imbalance, the calm within the tempest.

The rubble of walls. A passenger through the triumphs, a pull through the lows.

I was air, and yet I had none.

Now, I make my own light.

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