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you can tell she's in love by the way her lips move to form poems
the way her fingers dance across a page, marking each and every perfect moment
recording history and all the small things that maybe she'll forget a few months from now
maybe she'll never forget them at all.
maybe this one, she thinks, is forever.
this one makes her feel broken and whole all at once. missing and found whenever her fingers meet his wrists. warm whenever his palms meet her skin.
this one is sure to break her, she is certain. because no love this great comes without consequence. nothing so wonderful would be so kind as to leave her unscathed.
being in love has broken her once. it will break her again.
but this time it will be a privilege, to be destroyed at the abandon of something so much greater than anything else she's ever known.
this time she's ready to drown.
(m.b) ;; prepare for the worst. hope for the best.
