34 ('Hold Tight').
When I met you your smile looked a lot like an awakening. One glance and I could feel the parts of me I had long since put to rest were stirring from their slumber. I shook the dust from my bones, told my heart it was safe, excised the wanderlust from my feet so I could stay where you were for a little while. I made a home in your hands; before I knew it I had laid my doubts to rest in the space between your shoulder and your chin where I seemed to fit so perfectly. But everything only lasts so long - these bones are gathering dust again, my heart feels far too safe, and the wanderlust is tingling in the tips of my toes the way it’s done so many times before; the way it does before I run. So hold me tightly to you now, tell me in the earliest hours of the morning and in the quietest moments of the night that you won’t ever let me go, remind me how your smile once felt like an awakening, and teach me how to make my smile feel a lot less like goodbye.