Firefly hearts

There are nights where we sit knee-to-knee in my dreams

like we're in elementary school again,

waiting for storytime.

but this time the stories are penciled between almost-words.

a stutter.

a glance away.

Hair falls into your eyes and I tuck it behind your ear,

hesitating a moment too late,

my fingers resting along the edge of your jaw,

tilting your face up until our eyes meet.

They say young love is supposed to be all butterflies and reckless abandon,

but you've never been a fan of fairy tales,

so maybe this is enough.

Maybe 'us' ends here,

frostbitten fingers and firefly hearts

flickering for a moment before fading away.