L O S T
❝A lonely weary badger.❞
𝗗𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟰, 𝟭𝟵𝟵𝟱
Dear R.C.
I love the touch of your fingers.
In my hair, it still lingers. There is madness in your veins, and magic in your bloodline...
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❝If you are Icarus I love you like the sea, with arms wide open waiting for your fall.❞
━ Lost, Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire
December 24, 1995
Dear R.C.
I love the touch of your fingers.
In my hair, it still lingers. There is madness in your veins, and magic in your bloodline. These two go hand in hand. A silent scream is the last pleading my soul, I told you last week that my nightmares have stopped because I am too afraid to tell you that all of them wear your face now. I was in love before I even fully knew you. I remember your fingers on my spine in summer. I remember your hand on mine, I remember your scream of agony. I remember. I remember. I remember.
My soul looks like an empty hole as if all the earth's lights went out at once, pain and knife rhyme as easily as death and life. Death is even cruel lover. Love is a nightmare, don't call me a prophet, God doesn't want me to speak for you. Every time you touch me with your warm fingers I feel like praying. Your existence is love at it's finest.
When my nights are plagued with what-ifs, you are right there to answer each question. Is that what the poets call love? I fell for you in slow motion. I saw your smile and my heart swelled. I saw your eyes and my lungs collapsed. I heard your voice and all my wings caught fire. The clouds look like your cheekbones, as the cutting edge of a deep blush in the sky. Be ready for war, my bones collapse into flowers until I become a graveyard of emotions
No one should feel ashamed enough to hide their uniqueness just because other people don't take the time to understand.
An already half fading one, peach and yellow and purple colored over my heart, aching with regret and heartache since months.
