you are not my gleaming sun

you are not the soft, rhythmic beating of my heart

you are not constant, sweet music to my ears, nor are you beauty and grace and personified

you are not my winged golden seraph, you are not my endlessly starry night sky.
you are not my blooming rose, nor are you the color in my life nor the passion of my soul

you are here now, though.
and you are warmth and adventure and a bitter, metallic, addicting taste in my mouth

you are not my life nor my one true love nor my soulmate, as such things do not exist for me

but you are a soft touch on a cold afternoon
and you’ve heard me say your name in a tone no one else has heard
and you took away my pretend innocence and replaced it with pretend experience

and your hands left impressions on my skin I will never show anyone else

and you feel as good as any misguided fantasy

so stay.

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