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To the girls with softer dreams—your purpose is just as powerful
If there is a God, this man is certainly proof that He has His favorites.
There is not a single cynical thought to deny the fact that she may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. She’s intimidatingly peaceful—a contradiction in itself. And I almost want to despise her for it. Because I fear there is a chance that I may begin to enjoy her.
She smells of honey, of happiness incarnate. And it’s entirely too distracting.
She is an intoxicating sort of exhausting, like running until you’ve lost your breath but enjoying the feeling all the while. And I feel as though I’ve been sprinting for days.
“Shh.” I run a hand down the length of her curls, feeling a hiccup jostle her body. “You did the right thing. Run to me. Always run to me.”
I had never known happiness before her. But if there is to be an after in which she doesn’t exist, I know I never will again.
“But you… you’re the embodiment of everything I am not. And yet, here I am, crawling back to you as though I’ve left a piece of myself behind.”
“I regret not buying that blue shirt from you, if only so I had your attention long enough to convince you that red suits you better. I regret not telling you how much I like it when you blow those bangs out of your eyes, or the way you clap after finishing a row of stitches. I regret smothering every smile you made me want to give you. And I regret not telling you the truth. But most of all, not saying goodbye.”
“You make even the stars envious,” I repeat softly, leaning toward her. “Because one day—far from now—you will be up there beside them, outshining every single one.”
“You are the sweetest thing I have never tasted.” Another brush of his knuckles. “And I doubt I’ve craved anything more.”
And there she is, outshining everyone. In a way, she’s always been the sun. Always the brightness that existed despite the presence of such darkness.
