[rewritten ver. of unscripted]
we don't live in a fairytale.
but she was everything the fairytales failed to mention.
like icarus, he was destined to fly too close to the sun.
and fall. maddeningly. deeply. in love.
- neil still does not die in this...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOU ONCE TOLD ME that love was like perfume. Divinely fragrant at the first spray, droplets dissolving into thin air, until only a mere trace would be left. But it would be forever imprinted where you had once put it. Like a stain never to be effaced. Indeed, your love was perfume upon my entire being, and all the poets were my witness.
I had loved you once, in another life. Perhaps lifetimes before. Where I was every poet, and you were every muse, and in every version of them, I'd loved you. You were there, where I was left to die, a thousand times and again, you were there for me to love and love and love. There was nothing else. For that, I was certain.
But you had been starving. Possessing a deep hunger that you would not let me know of. You press your lips to mine as if you had not known of satisfaction, as if the thought was utterly foreign to you. You lived through everyday as if it were your last, and I had always been so fascinated by the way you lived.
I must admit, I'd been fascinated by many things about you, and your eyes and hair would only be the first of those many. I could talk about how your tresses would glisten under the Vermont sun, each strand a translation of you spun into a silent vow. Or how your eyes were a striking gray, almost silver, or maybe hazel, or green as a forest. I could never tell which one it was. The boys were half convinced you'd been a saint sent to Earth to torment us.
You were always full of secrets, and you hadn't materialized it into words, but it would've been our undoing. At first, it was nothing but a soundless wraith behind our shadows, barely there until a trickle of light would draw it into focus. You thought I wouldn't be looking, but I always saw it eat away at you.
It was then I had realized that you were lonely. Being alone is different than being lonely. You could be in a room full of people, and feel nothingness. You could be amidst a sea of glittering gold, and feel weary. You could be at a family reunion, and stay in a corner, welling up in your own little place of sorrows and melancholy for a time that once was.
That was why I took it upon myself to be Icarus, and risk flying too close to the sun, just so I could get a glimpse of your radiant smile.
You once told me that love was like perfume. But it was not. Love was flesh and bone and gnashing teeth. It was carnivorous, and tender at the same time. It was seven different ways to sink your fangs into your lover's skin, and revere them at their altar, almost biblically, in a sense as if it were a religion.
You, my darling, had been many things — a saint, a sinner, a girl so lovely one would fall to their knees. But, most of all, you were Love in all its carnivorous glory.
🎭
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
A/N
Welcome to the prologue of A Tale of Lovers Dead !
I hope you enjoyed this little introduction, because it's gonna get better (or worse) from here on! So buckle up and enjoy the bumpy ride ;)
