If You Could

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After dusk, I light up the stars.

I drop the shells on the beach before you set out each day; I walk a few steps ahead.
I blow the smoke in the sky to shade your eyes from the gold that drips from my Maya blue chest.

And I know you'd do the same for me if you could.

I step, surefooted, across the water to deliver the sun.
I sleep, soundly, its warmth on my face.
I feed the fire, like an arsonist, and move on while the embers fly. All for you.

And I know you'd do the same for me. If you could.

I run so you can catch me.
I'm ice and an oath.
I leave the door open on purpose.

You and I are a lot alike; kindred children playing with fire.
We swim too far out into the waves and cling to each other while the current inevitably brings us back home.

But only I know how to breathe underwater, only I know why the moon pulls us back.

You would know too.

If. You. Could.

You should.

It's unfortunate that I will never tell you.

Lavender and LeatherDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora