I still remember the night we met

I remember the first night we met. It was freezing, and I had nothing to warm me up but a light jacket. You see, I didn’t expect it to be so cold when it was only October. We exchanged glances, and at that moment I knew. You’d been waiting for me. And deep down, I had been waiting for you too.

Back then, I couldn’t even imagine that there would be countless more nights that we’d stare at each other, back and forth, overwhelmed with our existence, until the dawn arrived.

I wanted- even needed- everything; for us to be buried in winter’s frigid embrace, and for me, no matter how cold we were feeling, or how badly our teeth were shaking, to never be cold again.

For the hours to pass, as your touch softens my skin, and need you so badly that words, phone screens, even myself- even love itself- don’t seem to be enough, if you just knew about every little thing I’d like to gift you.

For the winter to pass, but for our love to stay evergreen through spring, as we become showered with almond tree leaves under the moon, and for me to witness your hair get lighter under the sun.

For us to live fascinatingly, and browse the people passing by from my rooftop, as we sip ice-cold coffee and the summer’s just around the corner, but there’s still that light breeze blowing on our direction, as I helplessly coo over you.

To keep making each other art in every form and for me to keep singing you all these love songs, even if I have a cold and my voice doesn’t sound that lovely. To know, that I am able to live without you, but never wanting to.

And I know, I know that the time’s past midnight, and am fully aware of what you told me because when I heard your words, I shattered into tiny million pieces. I know that tonight I’m completely, utterly alone, smoking the twentieth cigarette in my bedroom, fighting the urge to pick up the phone and make that very lustful call.

I know, I know that your craving for me may not be as eternal as I thought it would be, but I can at least hope that your love will be. Even if we drift away from each other, even if the stars come to be the only light in the sky, and even if we turn out to be just two passers-by that observe one another from opposite sides of the street.

But if you’re not really here, the stars don’t even matter. I don’t want most of you, but all of you.

Because you’re a black and gold meteor shower, and if you leave, existence itself doesn’t seem to feel complete.

Yet, I consider both of us extremely fortunate to have known each other, and to have done all those things, and even more. I’d say that we’re even lucky enough that we each got our own wish without even knowing it. I mean, without even knowing, that in reality, you were my wish upon a star and I was yours.

But for now, just one wish is not enough, for I am greedy, and even when I’ve gotten everything I possibly could from you, need much more. Suddenly, the almond tree leaves and the summer breeze don’t seem to fill the void your absence has left, even if I thought I’d enjoy them anyways. Truthfully, I don’t. And nothing’s certainly not enough.

Even if the Sun itself was gifted to me, it wouldn’t mean absolutely anything if you weren’t there to see the impeccable light reflecting in my dark brown eyes. You’d probably hold me back, just in case I burned, but baby, you wouldn’t have known that nothing burns me through and through as you do.

And I absolutely, inescapably can’t help it, because, just between you and me, when I laid my eyes on you that night, the waiting was over.

For that, the source of my warmth was standing right beside me.