|it looks like your in love with me or something…
Author: speakeasy-love PM
I have lost a great deal of color coming to terms with this.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Poetry - Words: 517 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-03-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2591854
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
the end of the words, he has not responded, I will truly miss him…the torment has ended… although I still can't be sure if I have anything…or if I'm pregnant. but all of that…is not. I don't…feel like he left me… anything… there is nothing.
I will truly, truly miss him…
but my love for (removed), should keep me alive, fine, and thriving.
I feel like I broke him…in some way. and I feel terrible for that… he was strange, but much smaller then one would think, until I found myself in his arms, I had no idea… he made me seem…not so small.
his eyes, weren't particularly sad…but they said things, I'm sure he never intended. things I never tried to read….that I had no right to know about…
I feel wicked, for being so damn…pretty. it is my gift, as well as my curse. and now…I am only crying for him, and for perhaps, breaking his…heart…
I have never broken a heart before, as far as I know. I have lost a great deal of color coming to terms with this. something like that instantly steals color. it's a poison, of the worst kind. it wanders our borders, invisible, until bitten. then, as the venoms passes through your flesh you get your one true look at love, before it tears your heart out, and sends you to your knees.
love is for believers, and those who never took the time to stay up to see if Santa was real or not.
my words are still filled with him, the Michael…a boy.
he was…beautiful. and as kind as I was wicked. someone finally, not pure. his color, was the closest to my color, I have ever gotten.
my heart, still weeping. over the strangest loss.
I can't tell you, what kind of villain that makes me…
not the worst, but once night reaches an hour, of pure darkness.
I become not a beast, but a widower, of the beasts.
and the moon, covered in scratches and scars, calls to me.
like lovers, we meet in secret, cup the seas, and drink greedily of the sweet nectars.
blond hair, that so righteously mocked everything a blond stood for. not nearly as curious, as his eyes once gave off.
I can't…be over him yet. there was too much love for me to…be over him. I want to see him! I want to…touch him. his face…every time I think about it…I get very…very sad. like my heart, needs to be someplace, that I can't take it. I must…suffer. for…no one.
I've been told, to run for my life. god…he was much much smaller then I thought he would be.
ha, now that is truly wicked. something beautiful… not perfect, something that I can ,maybe…hold onto…just for a little longer then…I normally ask for.
I'm up past midnight, wishing for all the same things.