SOPHISM OF THE SUN

WEDNESDAY

THE PULSE OF THE DAY MATCHED THEIR OWN

you've never liked taking photos. when i asked you why, your eyes turned from shimmering honey gold to stale cough-syrup brown. you picked at the mud lodged under your nails and told me that you're scared to bleed through the film and fade at the edges, you're afraid of becoming unreal. you're a silly girl to think that because the very thought of you is burned into my eyelids.

i shook my head at you and took your hand in mine. i let it rest on my chest, let you feel the maelstrom stirring beneath my ribs. i kissed your knuckles and told you that you're the reason behind it; that you are my reality.

and i fell in love all over again when your smile made my breath hitch.