motion picture soundtrack || letters.

24.5.20

weaver.

you are so ingrained in me that, on rainy days, i stare at the cornflower drops through your kaleidoscope eyes, and try to remember the sound of your speech.

you are and always were a juliet to me, poised on an ivy-glazed balcony listening tenderly to your romeo (doting me!) calling poetry up to you. striking, unattainable: an angel. i always wished you would float down to me, just once. you're still up there, obscured now by the fog that is the past. the green light on the dock. the ginger cat in the window. i'm getting away from myself.

we are so far apart now, and yet i find i'd still do everything for you. prince, princey, i still... ah, you know what i'm saying. one day, i still hope, i'll find my way onto that balcony, and i'll be able to stop talking in metaphor and say what i fucking mean. but, for now, you are a much needed summer rainstorm viewed through a dusty window, and that is as clear as i dare to get. 

there is nothing like you in the world. there never will be. i mean it.

here's to warm winter nights, and stopping the world to wait for your reply, and here's to three big ones. 

yours and ripe for picking,

tets.

ps - i adore them. and yet, nothing of yours can mean as much to me as the moment when i understood the tranquil yellow flare. in that second i glimpsed the universe.