Walking by your side as you hold my arm close to yours, I look up and thanks my stars for these ephemeral blissful moments. Gratefulness is my only weapon and my only survival.
I take a deep breath.
Deeper than your beautiful, black eyes that hold a sense of apology yet also satisfaction. You can’t stop staring into my eyes either. My tears are not for you to blame upon yourself. I want to tell you every day, that it is not your fault. You are what keep me going.
I look down at your hand. Your long fingers still haven’t played me that piano tune you promised you would. I’ll forgive it. The sound is better in person anyway. But please don’t ever break your promises.
As I cup your face in my hands, your cheeks turn red. A shade lighter than the shirt you love on me. You said that shirt made me look as radiant as the moon. Graceful and distant. Easy to love, but so difficult to touch.
It doesn’t surprise me that you begin to tickle my ribs as soon as you sense my tension. My smile is your strength. My joyous whoops restrain your guilt. How temporary is laughter. We must be so used to temporary by now.
You then curve a smile like you do every single time. Reassuringly.
You walk away like you do every single time. Painfully.