Musings of a night

They say that you are the night, cold and born to die of light, but you’re smiling and there’s a swallow in your cheek and a shadow on your chin, and I realise that they don’t understand. They will never understand how you don’t have to be the warmth to warm me, how you don’t have to be the sun to show me an entire world, how you the starless sky are more beautiful than the taste of fireworks.