traces of stardust

carry on

song that makes me calm
anchor // novo amor

You changed me.

I'm still figuring out if it was for better or worse, because when I look back on our past it's as if I'm an outsider snooping in on something sacred not meant for my eyes. According to your final spill of supposed truth, I always lived too much in the insignificant which had already been set in cement and never treasured what was right in front of me. If only you knew how wrong those words were once upon a time.

We met on December 10th of last year in the bookstore which (at the time) was still ran by Ms. Doris, an adorable eighty year old whose trademark was giving you the most delectable dessert that would become your favorite as a gift when your birthday came around. Snow flurries were coming in quick when you stumbled into the store, your eyes showing how you were clearly desperate for any sort of shelter from the conditions outside.

You had voiced your curiosity as to why I, someone who seemed to be at a similar age to yourself, would waste my talents in a job tied down to a worn out establishment such as this and willingly allow my freedom to slip away from my fingertips. The way your tone expressed this in such disbelief brought my blood to a boil, but as soon as my answer was out there for your eardrums to register your essence shifted towards the matter in milliseconds.

"I have a brain in my head which is capable of appreciating the good that is given to me."

You responded moments after the initial shock wore off by asking if there was anything you could do to make up for the bad first impression which hadn't been your intention. When I said how the cigarettes peeking out of the pocket of your leather jacket weren't doing you any favors and it wouldn't hurt if you cut down on the addiction, the laugh that escaped your chapped yet soft appearing lips was a sign that hey, maybe you weren't a completely soulless asshole.

We grew to be friends first.

The shift between the 'getting to know you' stage and actually placing the stamp which signified what we had as a friendship happened  in late January. Even with such a short time span under our belts, the person you came to in a time of need was me; the people you grew up with that surely had your history in their back pockets to ensure that the right way to bring you comfort was used weren't the ones you chose to bring the tears over your uncertainty concerning where you fit in this world to an end.

The spark that ignited this burning of your mask came from old memories. A relationship that once tasted like a sweet blend of honeysuckle and sugarcane had become sickly because of a simple fact: your partner decided to put their lustful selfishness above the three years you had been together. This brought alive your now ongoing mindset that nothing seemed worth striving for if even the strongest of bonds could be broken like glass.

After three slices of plain, cheese pizza and two servings of the tallest glass of water I had to nearly force you to drink were safely put into your system, we realized it was way past one in the morning and there was no way I was letting either of us drive when we both were on the verge of falling asleep. The time we spent going back and forth between who would take the bed that night to sleep turned out to be pointless, because both of us ended up crashing on the couch with sore backs to serve as a reminder.

In the spring the façade you carried out in our first greeting had slipped away. This quiet, blurry observation became clear to me in the start of April when rather than have solely dark hues coating every inch of your skin, you wore a faded gray t-shirt on its own, no leather jacket to hide your skin from the sun.