lux aeterna

Don’t tell me you know what love is until you’ve discovered the way that you are waiting each moment you’re away to be with them once more. Don’t tell me you know love until you can show me your heart, inside in out, drenched in their spirit and the things that make you theirs and them yours. But not because you desire their bodies or their comfort; anyone can give you that. Show me that you are drawn to their minds. The complexity and puzzles that make them wonderful and confusing and uniquely them. Bring to my mind the way you wonder of how they interpret you, of how they categorize your actions and adopt your memories as their own. The way they see the things you make and the traces you leave, as if they were blessed and luminous. The way they look for you in everything they see, and in the way they end up with thoughts of you no matter where they start. Let me sense the way your pulse speeds up and your mind panics, as your head rests against their chest and you listen to their heart. Tell me you wonder just how many beats they have left. You wonder just how many beings have bruised their soul, and you feel the need to gently whisper away the locked combination of words that will clear the black and blue just right. Blue, for the clarity of their soul and the days that you will take their hand and walk with them. Black for the nights you lie alone and wish they would save you from the creatures in the walls and in your head. Red for the blood you shed when they rip your heart in two. Imagine it dripping down your arms and legs as you cry your tears and fight your wars. Severed pieces lie throbbing, bleeding, while invisible blades slice your skin, invisible gashes only you can feel. Red cuts that scratch across your body, raw and bloody, drawing away your life as you continue on. But they return, and you forget, and every fire they light on your skin clears away and brings new like a charred forest after rain. Always ready for life, always ready for death, you tell them you are theirs but somehow, you are yours. You and them, a unit, own both of you, as one and two. Fighting the world around you and fighting each other and fighting yourself. Can they tell you your thoughts? Can you tell them your lies? You are glass and they are cameras. Always taking snapshots of the inside, but always capturing reflections. No matter how little the space between your fingers, the true space between your worlds is the space between each beautiful mind.