Sparkatale

I wanted to tell you that I have scars on the insides of my eyelids shaped like your smile so that every time I wake up and open my eyes, I’m reminded of my one and only reason for getting out of bed every morning.
I wanted to tell you that I am horrible at exploring anything unless it involves your body.
Then I’m master of the continents, captain of the seas, ready to dive into all your most well-hidden places.
That the back of your neck tastes like a dozen oceans rolled into one and the juncture between your elbow and hipbone is the only space I’ve never been afraid of falling into.
I wanted to tell you that the way you blush makes my day because every color spreading across your face is more enticing to watch than any sunset, no matter how long it lasts.
That you are more than this life has to offer.
I wanted to tell you that although your heart may be cracked and spilling like a broken hour glass, it has never wasted my time.
I have never wanted to put anything else back together so badly if it meant giving us more years together.
That your mouth on my neck is the only language I have ever been fluent in or cared enough about to try pronouncing correctly.
That your depression will never get the best of you because finding you was like looking for a needle in a haystack and anyone who’s worth that kind of effort is sure worth more than any stupid disorder. 
I wanted to tell you that my breath is yours and always has been. That you never took it away because it was with you right from the beginning.