How?

I have wishes.
Not the kind that fade with morning,
but the kind that breathe, slow, heavy,
and ache when the air is too still.

I wish you could be the center of it all,
the axis my world spins around.
I’d watch it all move,
content to orbit you forever.

I wish time belonged to us.
That I could see through your eyes,
feel the wind against your skin,
know what it’s like to live
inside your pulse.

I fell for you without realizing it,
a sudden drop from something tall.
I braced for impact,
but you caught me instead.
Now I live in you,
somewhere between your heartbeat
and your silence.

I call it addiction.
You call it love.
Either way, I can’t escape.
And I don’t want to.

Tell me,
how do I learn to love being alone
when everything inside me
was built to reach for you?