dawn

I can write and say all I don't want so many times I almost believe it true, but then there are moments when the darkness hasn't quite become light and my head is still spinning and this boy who doesn't matter but keeps re-appearing anyways is snoring beside me. And then this boy rolls over and wraps me up so tight in his arms that I am instantly tiny and my head is suddenly spinning in all sorts of different ways. And the next time I stir there is more light than darkness, and he is still here even though I know he shouldn't be, and even though I know this, he is still there so I roll over and run my hand along his back and splatter kisses across that back and squeeze him the tightest 'hello.'

Despite this burst of affection, he still doesn't matter anymore than he did the night before. No. The mornings were just always my favourite to wake to with the boys that mattered the most. And as much as I claim to not want to be anyone's half of a whole, that love I splattered across backs and gave in the biggest hugs can't just disappear, can it?

This boy does not matter and will never matter in any way that love is involved. No. Never. But even though I know this, I sometimes can't help but return to my old self in those mornings when the sky is half dark and half light and he is placing a kiss on my shoulder.