Unspoken: The Anthology

And It's Golden

I've never cared about the sun. Not until it haloed you.

And now I can't see the celestial body the same. It was ethereal, that moment when the glow touched your hair, framed your face and darkened the world around you. Your blond hair gleamed as if the sun was always meant to hit it. As if you touched me like the sun's warm rays did the world. As if you and joy were synonymous.

It's the same now. It's still me getting lost in your pale eyes, distracted by your face and enamoured by your wits. It's still me losing myself every day but treading back the treacherous path a little less afraid now that you're here. It's still my doubts, sweeping me up in a whirlwind that made me spiral. But now, I was tethered to the ground. Now, I could see it, so clearly. A glimpse of the sun's rays through the storm. And it's golden.