I can still feel your whispers. On the small of my back, tiptoeing to the curve of my neck, tickling my earlobes and hotly making each and every hair on my body stand tall but fragile, making me feel so weak and so vulnerable but so loved all along.

Those whispers once told me the silliest of things. The meanest and the loveliest and the most impossible things all came together in them, and those were things I believed. Things I still believe. I didn't mean to but I gave my heart away to all your little whispers, which ransacked my soul and took me captive.

The day you whispered those things to me, I found myself then fell apart two seconds after you left me for good. I realized that the same whispers that made everything I’d ever wanted come true were the whispers of my downfall

I still wonder where I’d be if I’d never had to hear them. I wonder where I’d be if I’d never wanted to hear them in the first place. I would love to forget them for good without forgetting you and the way you felt that night. But it’s nearly impossible now. I am in too deep. Your pretty, scary whispers have already tainted me.

And so now, when I start to feel them creeping along my spine and wrapping their way around my broken heart, I secretly hold on to the way they feel as they felt when they first took me by surprise. The way they felt when we danced barefoot on the street and you pulled me in close and whispered the most beautiful things I had ever heard, and I nearly died in your arms to a lovely, lovely dream of your whispers.