I know you’re not supposed to say this, but I loved being your secret. Like an entire planet all to ourselves, filled with nothing but the sound of our laughter and sunlight warming our cheeks. A bubble created with the tenderness of our youth. No one could reach us there; your voice always a siren that I never could refuse the call of. We spoke our own language–created an impenetrable syntax, a fortress of dialect that died on your tongue the last time you uttered my name. I survived on the feel of your skin against mine, devoured the crinkle of your nose, gorged on the taste of your lips too many times to count. I bite back the bile in my throat thinking of my greed. We both got carried away. You thirsted for my embrace, swallowed my tongue, got full on the moles adorning my cheeks. Bit off more than you, more than I, more than we could chew.
Too soon, our world crumbled around us. Surrounded by the rotten stench of carcasses, rivers that shriveled up into nothing, trees that were stripped of their evergreen leaves. A place so decayed that we scratched and climbed and stepped over each other to escape from it. Our safe haven turned into a pit of melancholy; unfulfilled wishes and broken promises were cancers eating at the cells of our adoration. Gravity pulled us back down, tried to force us back together by contorting into shapes we both knew we’d never fit into. I almost wish that we had known better. But you know knew me. And I know knew you. Neither of us would’ve listened to reason. Or logic. Or anything that didn’t dawn with you and dusk with me.
I used to wish that I could go back to that place. Start again, sow stronger seedlings and reap their benefits. I wouldn’t be greedy this time; not again, I promised myself. I would gratefully take any scraps you could give me, pace myself so that I wouldn’t overindulge. I knew what to do this time. I wouldn’t even need your help. I’d make the tides rise again, plant trees that could truly thrive, and create something new. Something perfect. If you’d only let me try one more time. I know now that our planet no longer exists as we know it. It drew breath for as long as it could before being swallowed up by a superior star. A celestial, imposing supernova created an eternal burst of light out of the feelings I held for you. That’s how I’ll remember it: our planet of two.