Girls

Girls

Yorisea

How many summers and Septembers, distractions and chane meetings, remnants of our sad, hopeful love in another’s look, an all too familiar gesture —how long do we go on dragging our aching bodies day after day through this yawning, yearning world, searching for a glimpse of what could have been?

Tell me there has been someone else like me, for you. That your experience of love has not been defined by the way I spoke your name into the hollow of your neck. Ask me if I have found the same kind of reverence anywhere else but in your slow, patient hands, your sca-salt lips spilling laughter mid-sentence, my heart rising in a crescendo like a wave ready to crash.

As you whispered to me, love is the only thing that time can’t touch.

After all this time, my love for you burn constant and true, my guiding light, my morning star. Tome is testament to the relentless, unyielding power of this old, ancient love. A love I will carry from cons to oceans to inches, back to you.


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