You are the Splenda in my cup of tea
A little something sweet, even if you aren’t the real deal
One little sip is all I need to keep the nightmares away
When my hand is in yours, invincible becomes more than just a word.
You told me my yellow sundress embodies the springtime itself,
My peppermint lip balm, the dead of winter
With you, I become one of the cherry blossoms blooming on the tree next door
The only thing you made me lose is loss, itself.
And the windowpanes would speak if they could,
Whisper their memories about who and what happened in this house before we did
The floorboards creak with stories, and hopes, and dreams
Fulfilled and latched on to,
We will write a story of our own:
The closing line, the acknowledgments, but most importantly, the epilogue
The shadows we run from are merely ourselves.