To you who fell from Darkness' Grace

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝟎𝟎th 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞
𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: Confession

I have a confession to make.

Thus far, I have thoroughly convinced myself that everyone leaves—and thus far, it has proven itself true. Likewise, for their departure to mean something to me, I must have had some form of affection towards them, no matter how miniscule or mountainous it may have been. We meet, we laugh, we cry, & eventually, we separate. Infinite is the number of people I've met and never seen again. Endless unsaid goodbyes and final hello's. Nonetheless, I've never looked back. I've never tried to look for anyone in a crowd I'm sure they aren't in. I've never missed anyone. I've never wished to see anyone again.

Except you.

I see you in the way I curve my 'r's (too silly to match and oddly resembling an 'n'). I see you in the way I cough (into the elbow away from others because you don't like getting sick and I don't like you being in pain). In the way I sit, the way I hold my phone, the pace at which I walk (slowed enough for your tiny legs to keep up). I see you every time I take the steps and remember how you laughed over the fact that I could climb and talk simultaneously. I see you in everyone who wears a black cardigan, in every ribbon & satin bag. I see you in every fairytale & recall your adoration for the whimsical and reverie. Every time I'm told of new literature, you're the first on my mind, thinking whether you'd like this or that, or maybe neither. Even as I write this I wonder if you'd have preferred I write this in black instead. Every song I hear, I find myself asking, "Would she enjoy this?" When they catch my eye, daffodils and forget-me-nots, & sunflowers & sunsets, I wish to snatch them, weave them into an unbreakable chaplet, & set it on your head, knowing they'd never be as golden as you. 

Every day, I think of you at least three times; when I brush my teeth & wonder if yours still ache; when I find myself falling off my chair and question whether that'd elicit a little chuckle  or even a smile from you; and when I look at the wall & marvel how you'd never forgotten I liked dark blue despite the wall's adamant refusal to be anything but faded cerulean (albeit I couldn't tell until you told me). When you text me, I catch myself smiling despite having incessantly promised to let you go if you so ever wished. I hadn't realized that I'd also promised to welcome you with the warmest, tightest hug if you asked. It burns to see you go away, but I never relent & let you leave. I mean nothing to you, just someone to spend a good time and chat with. But to me, you were the only book I cherished. A library I'd memorize inside out if you let me. A jewel I'd guard past my death. You hurt me & I stall not an instant in forgiving you if it means I stay by your side. Every sip of coffee is trailed noiselessly by you, declaring your adoration of it for the umpteenth time. I run and think of how you broke your leg as a child and haven't run since. I see my wardrobe & think of how you wore similar pants to mine the first time we hung out; but I know, and swear, you wore them better. I see nail prints plastered over salons & want nothing more than to draw them on for you because you love your nails and I love you.

Yes, I love you.

I've never loved anyone before. Ever.

My lips may spill the lie a million times to appease others, but with you, I've been sincere from the start. From the day you said my eyebrows were well-groomed, smiled at me—smiled, not cried—despite my scars, the day I called your mom's phone when you were absent and I couldn't speak more than three words before bubbling into tears, the day we walked the kindergarten together, I've loved you. We grow distant, but when you play music & show me your choreography, it's like we've been linked at the hip from birth. You confide in me, & I panic and hug you because it's the only thing I know. But you've taught me.