Lately, I’ve been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and who I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be… and when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.

My heart is a distillery of moments.
Every day I spent with you
Will ferment inside me,
Until I can pour nostalgia into a glass And get intoxicated by the memories
Of sunbeams and laughter.
Of storms and stories exchanged.
Of my hands in your hair
And your face in my neck.
I’m not sure if it’s blood,
Or love coursing through my veins,
But I feel warm.
To be addicted to the past is far more dangerous
Than any poison I could swallow,
And I know I’ll never quit.