Self Awareness Is Enchanting

I read your texts in stunned silence. Chilled floor tiles contrast with the gentle sunlight dappling through the crooked thorns around my chest.
Your are the fantasy of stalwart protection made flesh and blood and kind eyes holding the precious treasure of a kind soul forged into flexible metal.
I would hold the immensity of your sorrow, allow the warmth of that furnace to seep into my brittle winter armor, bend into a softer, trusting, more natural shape.
The sweet ghost of who I used to be. Your words have a way of pulling them back into me.

let this moment fill my chest
after that, I’ll soon forget
then you can tell me all over again