Wishing Glass

When an air of melancholy wraps you in a chilled blanket,
drapes itself around you and pierces your skin,
I will finger its stitches, its texture, gently
I will trace the quilted and uneven beauty.

When nostalgia nips at your mask of pretending
to settle with the present, like frostbite
I will burn the mask and let the memories breathe,
swelling and subsiding to time's rhythm.

When the complexity of what always makes you laugh
stretches your bitten, beaten nails into claws
I will take your hand in mine silently, I will twine our fingers
together, trace whispers into your tender palm. I will never let go.

When your favorite song makes you cry
because it reminds you of what it was like to be happy
I will catch your tears in a wishing glass,
and we will sprinkle our dreams onto the stars.