You have a way of making my heart remember what it felt like when pieces of it were not scattered across the emptiness I have already grown accustomed to.

Of a room filled with nothing but my own voice, asking why I was never good enough.

Of every "I love you'" I have spoken, that echoed "I am sorry."

For every good bye that left holes in my skin, so that I will forever remember them every time I try to open up again.

You bring with you promises that I can no longer hold in the palm of my hands because of everything it had learned to let go until I was certain you did not exist.

You remind me of every sunrise and sunset my hands tried to hold.

Of the moon light that once held this body so close.

For the oceans it drowned itself in and constellations it got lost following.

Yet here you are, and I finally know what it feels like to have infinity wrapped inside my fingertips.

To have arms that hold every piece of myself that I tried to throw away, together, and call it a masterpiece.

Yet I am the artist, and you a reminder of those countless nights I stayed up looking for the star that would lead me to place where you existed.

You have a way of making my heart remember,

Remember what it feels like to have something to hold on to,

Something to be afraid of,

Something to make it feel whole again.

You have a way of making my heart remember its way back home.