Rift.

This is unsettling.

Something is amiss,

Like a minute detail lost in the moment,

Or the heightened sense that a boundary was crossed and broken.

The music is playing,

But neither of us are dancing.

It's as though a decision was made silently and secretly,

And there is now a wall.

We've returned to our own circles,

Separate, cold.

I don't like what this is,

But if it proves true I will watch us drift apart,

Without making a move,

Without a sound.

We'd be strangers,

How truly sad and tragic.

Kintsugi.

His heart. Oh his heart is so full of love it spills over and drowns everyone around him, yet he remains the only one who can't breathe. 

He is the bright glittering glass corroding away within the sand, the ones people bring home and keep for themselves. 

But all he sees is broken glass without its original purpose and wholeness, washed up and lost, never truly belonging in anyone's home. 

God he's beautiful just like kintsugi.

Shattered pottery sealed together with gold. He is the broken pieces, he is the gold. His flaws are what draws me to him, like moths to flame.

But flaws to a broken man remains cracks even after they've been put back together.  I can only watch the moth wings burn.

Awake.

It's odd to wake up outside of your own skin,

Each time you attempt to assimilate yourself, everything stands at an end, goosebumps.

You realise how hard it is to breathe,

Your mind a tumbling mess,

Empty.

I am breathing underwater,

So just let me drown.