i am but a child to you, am i not?

i see you laugh, with your head tilted back and you brush your hair to the side. that movement catches the sun, one more who has been pulled into your golden sphere.

it's heavenly. you are beauty personified, as your name goes.

i see the lingering looks as people pass you by, the hitched breaths as you touch and go and it's beautiful.

you are a work of art that i can hang on my wall, but one that i will never own. you are a masterpiece and there is nothing more i want to do than to trace every mark on your skin, to draw patterns and hope that you will be mine.

now, after that night when you downed a flask too many whiskey and the words came tumbling out, something has shifted. my head rested perfectly on the curve of your neck. we were one, in that moment.

i said three words and you leapt back, because you had woken from the dream that we faded into. i see now. every word you said to me was one that was true, but vague. you hid your selfish intentions and let me cry over them.

we could never be, because i was always a child.

just not to you.

love is perishable, but true love will never leave. it will only spiral into tiny particles that are spread over every atom of your being.

i wave goodbye to you as you board the plane, and in that moment, something in my heart breaks.

i will never be able to kiss anyone again without comparing them to the work of god that somehow loved me, once upon a time.