Last night, you seemed so beautiful, so dangerously seductive, so different from others I have met and known: it terrified me that I could not understand how beautiful the terror that you hold, and the fear and longing that keep you together.
And we were exchanging words: the words we kept to ourselves, and words we were afraid to say. And for a moment, you fell silent. Steady. You were just listening to everything I said. And the sky was strewn with the moon and words I have said before.
You were staring still, intently, as if waiting for something immense, other than this moment. In the middle of everything I have said, you smiled. Your eyes glimmered as if trying to understand what makes us long for the moments to be stranded in each other’s arms.
And I have always known how vulnerable you are. But you’re still here, with a smile that renders the stars jealous. And I thought to myself, nothing resembles someone as much as the way they smile.
And you smiled. And it took me quite a while to recover.