letters to a dead girl

eternally dear

dear horcrux experiment number 4,

dear. a strange word holding as much meaning as dead. dear, dead, and docile in your forever. drowned, debunked, and dirty.

dear, dear, dear.

the lifestyle that's possessed me in a form of karma for you, is simply exhausting. you possess me in the rare times i sleep, haunting my dreams and my life as you float in between.

every time i write to u a little piece of me withers up and dies (just like you did ). it's inconvenient, if anything, there's so many pieces of me to give, but not once have i been described as giving. my souls are mine and mine only— an eternal in which i rise above them all, almost touching the heavens in which i imagine you reside. or finally putting some distance from you. letting you rot in your grave as i look down upon you, like it was meant to be.

i find comfort in my eternal life in the same way you found comfort in me. what a shame one of those isn't true.

dear, my means to eternal.

it doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

your dearest eternal,
tom riddle