The tilt of you, the fractures where the light slips in.
I trace your doubts like constellations.
Your mistakes beg for reverence, a desperate proof of life.
I shaped you into a vision without weight,
perfection hollowing all meaning
until I warped your memory just to survive.
There is no hesitation in standing bare,
skin exposed, offering everything.
It is the easiest thing to do.
If I am any good, your chaos will be my endurance
the weight and counterweight missing.
But I will not stay for the past;
I will only stay if we keep moving,
I will not make a home out of echoes.
-AB
Wishful Thinking 
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