To N—

It wasn’t until I was five that I noticed my heartbeat. I saw a poster of Tom Cruise leaning against a bar counter and something in my chest began to drum louder than a circle. For so many years afterwards, I played with girls in the playground, wishing some certain boy would notice how much someone else desired my attention. I spent years being chased hoping I’d get caught.

I still remember the first time I was kissed (not just any kiss, but like the first kiss where everything inside you settles and you could have sworn you were shrouded in fireflies). He was a fortress to come home to; I was a crash landing in the middle of a hurricane. When our lips first touched on that hot June night, he pulled away, read the lines in my face, and asked if I was okay. He was on to me.

You see, before you I was always terrified of falling.

Before you, I never knew how sweet sugar could be; I always checked around corners, counted pennies, colored inside the lines, and left myself in the darkness so I wouldn’t have to see the light. When I was introduced to your goodness, I began to understand that the things I fear come from not knowing the truth in them. Like, corners should be turned even when you’re not sure where it might take you; that pennies are meant for keeping and lines are sometimes just a guide; that sometimes, darkness is a good place to be if you ever want to look at fireflies.

The week you left, I had a dream that you kissed me for the first time. When our lips parted, I could feel my heart pleading beats in your palm; a sorrow my voice was too afraid to show. Then, you kissed me one last time. I could taste my tears on your lips, even though I wasn’t crying.

I thought your departure would end my heart beating Morris code to your name, but the rhythm never stopped. My heart continues pumping blood into streams that are looking for your sea to empty into. Instead, they return to the heart with no good news to give. But, at least I still have a few lingering fireflies, and I hope you still have some too.

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About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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