Cave In.

This is the moment that sucks the most. Of all the little jagged edges of shattered glass, those first ones, when you aren't expecting it, when you don't see it coming, those have the worst sting.

It's like just up to that moment that it gives in, falls down, you can still believe it will hold up. Can still think it won't cave. You can cling to that hope until you are crushed under the ceiling. Keep looking upward, right until it crushes you.

It's weird the things you start to miss. It's little bitty, intangible moments. Things so brief and wide that they are impossible to label. They are full of gold that sloshes out when they flee so fast. Can't get your hands around it, hardly even see it, but it feels.

It is affection. Just a quick flutter of happy without doubt. Warm and safe and jittery exciting. A tiny wasp with a tinier life span. Comfort. It is a weird and shaky thing, lulling and dangerous. Makes me lazy and content, clingy.

Harder to shake than crack, that moment when, thoughtless with sleep, they pull you into their crook and sigh back to sleep. Home. You can't fake it.