cosmos.
"The most important thing is to have a heart."
She brushes your face with her fingertips, like she could turn you into something better through touch, voice sincere. You feel as if you're being picked apart, peeled back layer by layer, by her eyes and her fingers and the earnest expression she wears. Like you might be turned into something gold. You want to yell at her, tell her to get away from you and never come back, but you can't move. You don't know what paralyzes you, whether it's her half-smile or the shape of her lips or the way her hands feel, pressed flat to your chest.
"See? I can feel it beating," she whispers, and you don't know when she got so close. Close enough that he can feel her breath stir the tips of his hair. Her arms fold , and she stares up at you, and you can see her wondering when you got so much taller.
"What?" you ask. Whisper. The appropriate thing to do would be to wrap your arms around her waist, but they stay glued to your sides.
"Your heart," she says, and kisses you.
