“Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Emily Bronte
I had convinced myself that you were a lie. I told myself all the things people tell themselves when they need to forget, when they need to erase, when they need to move on.
I said that it was all just a haze, our conversations that awoke the sun, our minds that I swore were one entity, our beings that knew only how to be with each other. It was all just dust that I confused for magic.
I told myself that you had let go of me, that I would let go of you. I finally came to accept that you were not a lifetime’s friend, although you may have been a lifetime’s find. I accepted that you would fall into that trench of people who I “forget”, but never really forget.
Until I saw you again.
As you sat before me and spoke to me and my confused little heart cried a million times for how much I missed hearing your voice, I realized that with you I could be and I could do better than be, I could become.
With you, I could become my thoughts and I could become my heartbeat. I could take that dust around us and I could make it magic.
Only with you, I swear I could make it magic.