Am I thief
These whispered words, your warm arms around me, your lips that brush my hair gently as the murmurs reach my ears, I relish, I lay still, quiet within myself lest I shatter the moment. Oh, let not reality enter this realm. It is in these moments dear that I hang on to each word, each phrase spoken in this embrace. They seem fragile and light once they leave your lips. I stay still silent within myself lest I miss them. I reach out strain to hear and capture each one within the confines of my mind; there they shall live again and still. If I let them float from your lips if I let them escape my notice, were I not to capture them with my crafty ears and usher them quickly into memory I fear they would simply float away.
Into the air they would dissipate. Or perhaps they would be carried away on the slight breeze as it leaves through the nearby window, gently passing through the swaying branches of the tree outside your window. They would continue into the clear cool night until they were obscured lost between the pale moonlight and the deep shadows.
Oh, but here they are safe echoing in my mind or quietly awaiting a repeat. Would they be real if I did not hold them within the grasp of my mind? If I had not this evidence to hold, would they become dream? Am I thief, for stealing these moments and possessing them so?
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