You've always been a believer,
I stayed attuned to something
that seemed to cut much deeper.

I didn't run and hide
when the lightning struck,
when it pulsated through veins
to light up where you were in the dark.

I didn't flinch when tasting
how a final kiss can come
in the shape of a bullet.

Close enough to touch,
close enough to never 
want to see inside of again.

I once swayed and trembled
like a helpless worn violin,
the bow clutched in firm hands
before daddy rang an inevitable bell.

You've always been a believer,
I stayed attuned to something
that seemed to scar much deeper.

But with bare vulnerable flesh
that no longer sings your name,
I gather the crisp winter air,
clutch a star that has been 
radiating a more raw glow everyday.

I no longer flinch when 
listening to what fingertips
desperately try to tell me.

Where you pressed to me 
and I could hear quiet streams,
a melodious river flowed from
where you left me in the dark. 

I can somehow say everything,
whisper through cracks
that have begun to heal,
each grievance exploding.

Like fireworks ignited beyond
some dim glassy beach at night,
meant as nothing more than temporary 
bursts sparkling against an unmoved mirror.

I didn't flinch when the last one
set your afterimage permanently ablaze,
severed a telepathy I will no longer
hear the vast language and music of.

Close enough to touch,
Close enough to never 
want to be inside of again.

You've always been a believer,
I've stayed attuned to something
that will always reach deeper.