The Perfect View

You know how we all have our favorite inanimate things. What if those things, have favorite humans too.

Like your favorite plushie. The one you can only sleep with. The one that makes you feel safe.

What if it never knew warmth before your arms. Only the cold hands of machines. Only darkness inside a box. Only silence after the shop closed. What if it waits for you.

Counts time the way children do. Not by clocks, but by how long absence hurts. What if it needs you more than you ever needed it.

Like the smell of your partner’s perfume. How it vanished when they left. How years later, it suddenly finds you again in a stranger, in a hallway, in passing air. And you break.

What if the smell remembers you too. What if it clings because you were the only place it was ever loved. What if it isn’t trying to remind you of them— but of itself.

Like the view from your favorite mountain. How it gives you peace because you had never seen anything so beautiful before. What if the view feels the same. What if it had never seen a human so enchanting before.

What if it learned to become beautiful— drawing animals into its stillness, letting green bloom through its stone Anything, to hold your gaze a moment longer.

What if love is not exclusive to living things. What if we are surrounded by quiet devotion that will never ask to be named.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WZZ7LdbW74 https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/1OpiMLRfCj