Can I?

Can I be that shooting star in your personal cosmos which brightens your life for the fleeting moment, never promising a commitment but the ephemeral stay changing your entire course?

Can I be that paradox which is hovering over your head ubiquitously but also disappears at a quick snap of your fingers?

Can I be that lonely toy in your collection whose every broken part you save and glue it back, the one you keep coming back to after the initial exhilaration of the new one's?

Can I be that cotton sheath you wrap around your skin which breathes your pheromones and you replace after it is filled with too much of you?

Can I be those escaping words of small talk you have to whip out to counter the growing sense of disquietude so that I'm always present as a shield?

Can I be the hand you hold in your soul shattering breakdowns and downward spirals, the hand whose skin you can shred into tiny bits when you feel nervous?

Can I be that fogged up glass on which you blow and paint your one worded dreams?

Can I be that ripped ego and the regret of a final goodbye? Could I ever ask you so much?