Ophelia [a.m]

𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

How come you never answer my questions?

Do you not know either or do you do this on purpose?

I feel it's the latter.

Maybe both.

I never know.

I always thought you were just hiding, but perhaps maybe not.

Now I see you've always shown yourself bare to the world and for the life of me I can't figure out why.

Why are you the way you are?

Your family?

Tom?

I realize you've a weight on your shoulders.

You're an heir, after all.

I look at the bed.

You're avoiding it, too.

I stare at you.

Do you think I'm a whore?

You look startled and I smile.

Are you going to answer me this time or ignore it as well?

Your eyes turn sharp, no.

I hate that I feel relieved.

Then lay with me.

You're so unsure of yourself.

Is that what you want?

I asked.

Asking isn't wanting.

You asked me to be here.

You're silent.

I perch on the bed, my resolve leaving me.

I'm wilting again.

Winter is never kind.

You're rarely kind.

That's okay.

I'm so lonely.

  Just do something.

  Anything.

  Please.

  Be violent if you must-

  No.

  I take that back.

  Gentleness doesn't come after violence.

  It never does.

  It only arises from the absence of it.

  I've had enough of violent men in my life.

  But I'm so lonely.

  It seems the world only ever has violent men.

  Are they all I'm fit for?

  I can take it.

  But I'm tired.

  Just talk to me, please.

  Your silence is deafening and I feel you're disappearing.

  I blink and you're in front of me.

  The city burns as you caress my cheek.

  The moon was in your eyes, it always was.

  No wonder I always thought them familiar.

  Lay with me, you whispered.

  I am yours.

  I felt like crying.

  Would you kiss the tears away?