These Things are Your Becoming

starcrossed by nondani

starcrossed by nondani

It’s the in-between that you miss,
that won’t materialize into meaning until you are reminded of  fallibility,
of your great potential for demise.
So when the end comes knocking at your door,
always remember the moments you felt the most alive:

Waking up on Sunday mornings,
with the rain beating outside your window,
wrapped in his arms, legs lost and intertwined between blanket and flesh,
above the mattress you swore was heaven–

When you drank your hot cocoa on a cold, winter’s night,
your head against his shoulder,
watching a movie you’ve both seen a dozen times,
trying your best to stay awake at 3 am
because you’re so afraid of losing time–

When you watched him skate through thin ice,
the stars drowning in a sea of cold air and vulnerability,
and in the dark you could barely see
that hand that reached out to you,
inviting you to come in,
reassuring you that it’s safe to come —
so you did,
despite your doubt,
despite your paralyzing fear,
you willed your body into movement
and came–

When you both held hands and yelled at the waves,
as it crashed into your bodies in an attempt to hold you down,
and you held on to each other for strength and courage,
and you screamed at the top of your lungs —
pretending the ocean was the mother, the father, the sister and the friends
disappointed in you for falling in love with each other–

When you turned to him to see him smile,
as he stared at the windows of your first apartment:
and for a while you did not see fear or hesitation–
all you saw was possibility, and the sun streaming in through the window,
lighting the empty space to mould it into a room full of laughter, not decay,
of enthusiasm and ferocious felicity painted on the walls,
imprinting an image so real in your mind that it shocked you into the realization
that every room in the world will be brought into life by the love that you hold,
as long as you’re huddled against each other — it will become your home —

When you tried to push a couch through a window because it was too big for the door,
while he waited on the other side, and it began to rain —
you caught each other’s eyes and laughed maniacally,
because you loved each other,
in all moments,
even those of great absurdity —

When you finally allowed your eyes to rest,
the rising sun against the backdrop of a city ; the last thing you saw on the horizon,
and that warm, safe feeling of being enveloped in a cocoon made of blankets and arms
that hold you still despite the ravenous pounding of your heart:
those eyes that only part when you stop speaking,
and letting yourself be mapped naked into fragility,
because it’s the only way to be loved within every inch of your being–

The total surrender of your identity, foundation and flaws combined,
and those days of endless euphoria and undeniable recognizance,
remember it, cherish it, enliven it,
for these things are your becoming.


2 thoughts on “These Things are Your Becoming

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