Still Yours

If this world was a lie or a fairytale an alien zyboryg mother tells her restless child,

if all we have been are wisps of fevered imagination and rainbow filled bubbles dead the next second,

if you and I had simply been a myth or even less- a floating fable forgotten tomorrow.
I would still wake up with nose raised in search of your scent,

still tango my tongue with yours and giggle under my breath.

I would still fight you in the afternoon and collapse in your arms as we watch the sun set, I would still build our fortress at night, one moan at a time.
I would still be yours, even if we were only air.

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