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Friday, June 23, 2017

Better Than The Sun






But who are you to steal the glory of the sunset? How dare you pull my gaze from the orange rays to the edges of your face? How dare you make me forget about the sea and the naked shore, blanketed with rows of sea shells like white stars on a golden sky? How dare you fit my face in cupped hands like I were worth something? Like I were something beautiful you wanted to keep. And here, I try to fit yours in my small hands, like you were the sun itself. Like you were the only beautiful thing left for me to see. Like you were what I said I didn't need but actually do.


She sits now, at the corner of her bed, thinking of the knowing blazing sky while she religiously takes whiffs of your shirt, intoxicated with the smell of you and your perfume, sending tingles down to the tips of her toes. She sits, thinking, 'How is this actually happening? And why are our moments together like a bubble of portal, sucking in time like a day were an hour, and an hour, a minute?' She breaks into a crazy, lopsided smile and shakes her head, wrapping herself around the thought that she might have just found something better than torches lighting up the street. Something better than giant bonfires on the beach. Something better than the sun.