i breathe lifetimes | vkook

2012

  14 january .

my azalea,

     I am restless with half-lidded eyes and a memory scrunched between my fingers. inside me, a whirlwind lives and twists the words I cannot utter into perfect coils like linguine clinging to a silver fork.

     there you were, standing before me; incarnation of sweetness, smiling bright, skin dewy, doe-eyed.

     my love, you make a poor man's heart golden red like a summer blush.

     oh, my skin prickles with a sizzle only the heat of the sun should be the root of. you casted your gaze upon and me and I mumble a prayer to whatever is in heaven to calm my shaky soul. I should tell you that I am not very good with words on first meetings. did you feel odd when I had that wishful look on me? I know I did. I could not have been very subtle. alas, I could not resist.

     I am yours but only in secret. between me and the boy who lives in the mirror, yes. we both know you have my heart to keep.

     there were others. but they were unlike you. beauty, merely skin-deep.

     the man at the end of the round table mentioned that maybe his dreams were getting the best of him. he said, in a tone sour with hopefulness, that to get to know each other was much of a humble wish of his and less of a plan. "there is a bond somewhere that is waiting to unfurl." we must first introduce ourselves and discover common ground. I found wholesome humor in being told to know about you when I already have, time and time again.

      and maybe it showed. because then I'd received a glance—which was not so favorable—from the one named jimin. and after that began the other boys' ogling at me, too.

not from you. never from you.

why, jungkook...?

      is it what you wish to be referred to? my beauteous mystery? my endless love? what if in the heat of a moment, my tongue slipped and you became my darling instead? would it cause you any fear? would you shy away?

     spare me the delicateness of your youth. it will be the end of my sanity.

     I would never outwardly proclaim my favoritism, though for you I would gladly admit that I am sold hook, line, and sinker. make me your man, is all I want to say.

—zinnia