𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐟 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

the end or is it?

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴄʀʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ

" i bet you thought you could write me away. "

i begged the writers to kill you off once and they didn't budge.

you're gone with the wind at breakneck speeds. you're ill-advised, hot-headed, and bold. brazen, like burnished gold.

i was hasty, and not rational when i began to write. ere i begin to crumble, eftsoons i'll have given you every word i had never the permission to feel.

and then kill me, with vengeance frothing from the aperture of your lips. i don't use the word "beautiful" enough.

i long for you to know that you have always been more than enough. you are the tear in the blue where the sun peaks out above the clouds. you are the rip that let's it shine. and you are the shine.

i should just stop talking altogether.

you're scent is that of ruinations, i think that you have ruined nations full of wicked and weary, doe-eyed and hell-bent, old, brittle, and bare-boned girls.

we all die and we all rot but even still, it's i, scrambling for purchase when you're abruptly letting go of something you never prayed for.

yes, with stress, i digress, i did truly think that i could write you away.

but i have written you both prose and versification, i have given you my heart in the form of pen to paper, and i wrought saltwater from my own eyes and let it sting as it rolled down my dull cheeks in waves.

and yet, you are not gone. and i remember i used to care if it rhymed but now i just want to get my point across.

you took me to the stars, laid my broken bones on the moon, and you left me there. alone. why did you do that to me?

now, i can never forget you. and i tried to cache my innervation whenever you were around.

whenever our knees would touch. whenever one's hand grazed the other's. whenever one's gaze razed the other's.

but i consigned to oblivion. my eyes speak.

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"the end or is it?" i've been asking that question for aeons and everyone fails to answer.