Cold, Distant Origin
You were the loveliest two-weeks comet in my life. Your presence was overpowering––assembling and reassembling me all at once. Parts of me were broken down into small things that you swiftly put together with the techniques that you know. And I am forever grateful. You bore similar colour from other familiar stones in the sky, but you were heavy, with memories and history, also with the substances that you caught from the places before here.
Yes, here. Where you and I met. A brief but intergalactically predestined meeting. A minuscule difference would mean thousands upon thousands of different scenarios. Scenarios which you and I could never meet; a disheartening and dejecting maybe. But why wasting our days talking about the impossible? The subject of my longing in another galaxy, of another me, gruntled by the fact that this did not happen.
We were, God, we were. Your silence and my chatter. Your continuous monochromic appearance and my ever-present colourful façade. Your cold, distant origin and my bright, humid genesis. Your massive stature and my round, oftentimes delicate feature. Your partly deviant nature and my prissy attitude.
Notwithstanding the impacts of other beautiful creatures towards my growth into a better being, but you were, quite possibly, the first tangible being that pulled me out of the dark by convincing that I was a being worth living and noticing. Not with your light, mind you, but with your forward blunt truths. A refreshing breath of fresh air after what I had previously taken in. A hopeful opposite of my previous reveries. Though it was true that your appearance and gravitas pulled me in, the taciturn kind with the highest gravitational pull; even black hole could never hold a candle to you.
You were a text in the middle of the night. You were the zoo map that I've crossed out (hey, have we actually ran out of places to go?). You were the cinema in the middle of nowhere. You were an abundance of chips, chillies, coke. You were my favourite grey sweater on an oversized denim buttondown. You were ice cream, in 15mph weather.
Granted, you are not my absolute, cherished almost. But you were my second most favourite highlight. You built me, changed me––in mere two weeks. I can't imagine, the impact you'd have on me, if I was yours for two years.
Yes, here. Where you and I met. A brief but intergalactically predestined meeting. A minuscule difference would mean thousands upon thousands of different scenarios. Scenarios which you and I could never meet; a disheartening and dejecting maybe. But why wasting our days talking about the impossible? The subject of my longing in another galaxy, of another me, gruntled by the fact that this did not happen.
We were, God, we were. Your silence and my chatter. Your continuous monochromic appearance and my ever-present colourful façade. Your cold, distant origin and my bright, humid genesis. Your massive stature and my round, oftentimes delicate feature. Your partly deviant nature and my prissy attitude.
Notwithstanding the impacts of other beautiful creatures towards my growth into a better being, but you were, quite possibly, the first tangible being that pulled me out of the dark by convincing that I was a being worth living and noticing. Not with your light, mind you, but with your forward blunt truths. A refreshing breath of fresh air after what I had previously taken in. A hopeful opposite of my previous reveries. Though it was true that your appearance and gravitas pulled me in, the taciturn kind with the highest gravitational pull; even black hole could never hold a candle to you.
You were a text in the middle of the night. You were the zoo map that I've crossed out (hey, have we actually ran out of places to go?). You were the cinema in the middle of nowhere. You were an abundance of chips, chillies, coke. You were my favourite grey sweater on an oversized denim buttondown. You were ice cream, in 15mph weather.
Granted, you are not my absolute, cherished almost. But you were my second most favourite highlight. You built me, changed me––in mere two weeks. I can't imagine, the impact you'd have on me, if I was yours for two years.