I have passed over places that have remnants of your presence. I have tasted the air on my tongue and have been stung by the electricity inside my mouth. It’s you. I sit in your safe place and smell you everywhere. You are enchanting and mysterious. Treacherous and tempting. You are not the best idea I’ve ever had. As you hold the title of “life ruiner”, I understand as I grow weak against your ability to make me smile. I know you will snatch it off my face someday. I know you will teach me a lesson someday. A silent lecture on reckless desire, in which you will leave the chalkboard bare. I will fill it with my stream of consciousness, my memories, my attention to the minor details. My thoughts will etch like fresh chalk on the slate, slowly grinding harder and growing more and more shrill. The dust staining my clothes and hands. You will ruin me. You will take me to museums, parks, and monuments and kiss me in every beautiful place. So I can never go back to them without tasting you, like blood in my mouth. You will ruin me in the most beautiful way possible. And when you leave, I will finally understand why they name storms after people.
Let me not constantly guard my heart, but bear it fearlessly in years to come. I seldom feel for others, but there’s something in the way you watch me, the way you hold my face when you kiss me, the way you understand. There is something in you that awakens my soul. As I stand in the face of my past, I am given a choice to succumb to emotional turmoil or rise above. In a moment, there is a physical embodiment of my internal strife as I must turn away from my past, I must move on completely. And as I turn away, you stand before me. I am yours, and I am not yours. You are mine, and you are not mine. This is a good place to begin.