I’m counting the stars from the floor of the dark forest. Without a tent, but with a campfire, I cloud each light with my finger, constructing my own constellation through my ghost touches. Beside my ear, I can hear your stable breathing. I gaze at your shut eyes and the slit of your lips, and I just want to be in you—to strangle our spirits like multicolored threads in an endless sea of pins.
But he will return soon from his fight in a war and I will not be able to ask you again to comfort my fears and nightmares. The hourglass breaks and the sand slips through the shards, rushing far from my reach. Before the numbness terrorize me again, I redirect my finger from the skies down to your lips and trace it as if they are mine.
Right after the third trace, you open your lazy eyes and watch my skin lock itself on you. But before you can utter a hesitation, I draw your face to mine and kiss your lips, quietly asking you to nurture and choose the lost wolf in my wintry soul.
WORD COUNT: 191
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