inspired by the movie a world to come. i have a love-hate relationship with tragic stories about people from the lgbt+ community.
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𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐌
his scarred hands latched onto the black wool scarf that was once wrapped around the love of his life's serpentine neck. the heat from it was enticing, along with the elegant and wooden smell of italian bergamot. it was a killer for his disjointed heart.
he gave in to the temptation and embedded his face into the fabric. the fleece fluttered at his cheeks, irritating them with the feeling of itchiness but he didn't care for it. a big whiff left him breathless. yet, it was too addicting to stop.
"i miss you," he whispered into the itchy material.
"me too," venus imagined he would say if he was here.
but he had to remember that he was gone. and only cried as all of the memories they had together flooded like a river into his brain.
