Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

December.

I love December because it brought me back to you.

December brought me back to the ginger in your beard and the carelessness of your blonde ruffles. It brought me back to the pools of your peridot eyes. It brought me back to the honeysuckle of your voice. It brought me back to your simple warmth. It brought me back to nostalgia. It brought me back to your slowness, your calm and your easiness. December brought me back to tea-stained afternoons decorated with clumsy conversations.

December brought me back to yet another bustling coffee shop with you. It brought me back to the asymmetrical fullness of your bottom lip. It brought me to some hard apologies, and even harder forgiveness. It brought me back to your endearing immaturity. It brought me back to being the person there for you. December brought me back to a friendship that I though had ended, and made a bed for a new start to bloom.

December brought me back to earth and back to you. It brought me out of my head and back into the warmth of your arms. It brought me away from the edge where I was ready to jump. It brought me back from recklessness and self sabotage and fear. It brought me back to love and wholeness and maturity. It brought me to where I belong. It brought me to realisation and sincere gratitude. It brought me back safely from almost letting history repeat itself.  December brought me back to sense.

December brought me back home.
To you.
To all of you.

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