You’ll ask me “what’s new?” And to that I’d say, I moved into a new room, I got a new car, my dad got engaged, and I turned twenty. But you already know that. And what you don’t know is that my mind is new, my thoughts are too. Maybe my heart is new, so I’d like to think.
And although everything is new, life is the same and so are the tears that slip down my face with familiarity.
I thought a new room wouldn’t be touched by you, but I already made that mistake. My sheets had been recently washed of your lingering scent, my walls had been clear of our fingerprints, and even your laugh wouldn’t echo at night anymore.
But now your smell is on my tshirt and glosses over my pillow case. It’s stuck on my skin and my lips no matter how many times I lick them. Your fingers pressed against my new walls and the new pictures you looked at, in which one of them is of you, but you’d never notice.
I could say I didn’t want my new room touched by you, that I didn’t want your lingering smell or prints or laughs to remember, but I desperately did. I wanted that picture and tens more to hang on my walls and remind me of our loving moments that were breakingly limited. And that’s how I know I’m in love with you because you make my home feel like one. You make my bed sheets feel warm and my body even warmer. You make my lips smile and my mouth giggle like a child rolling down a grassy hill. Your smell, woven into my bedsheets, is no different than a thread that holds it together. But no one else makes my heart beat like you, no one else makes me feel so alive and purposeful. And when I’m with you, I feel that final puzzle piece click together and I can’t help but imagine the bigger picture.
So while you make me feel spectacular, I’ll keep your heart racing for a short amount of time before you go. I’ll keep your lips warm until you kiss me goodbye, and I’ll laugh in your ear hoping you’ll dream of me. But I know I’m nothing more than just another star in the sky, and not even the brightest one. I know you’ll look at me with wonder in your eyes and a short-lived love, admiring the golden constellation staring back at you, but once that glimmering light flickers out, I’ll know I’m nothing more than an option in a plethora of galaxies and I’ll never be your northern star.
So when you ask me what’s new, I’ll lie, because I still cry those same tears while I sleep beside your scent and your touch. Nothing is new because I still love you.