Hope is the dirty white sneakers on otherwise ever-bare feet. The sweatshirts we share. The promise poems torn at the edges. The headphones with always-knotted wires and the dances on cold rooftops. The boring, comfortable hum of machines and the cool, thrilling beaches. The shadows against a protruding spine caressed by your lover. The heat of a kiss and icy fingertips against reddened cheekbones. The little moments. The everything moments. The moments before the sun chooses to rise.
