a/n: experimenting with different writing styles. this is written from the point of view of a ghost. also trigger warning for suicide.

When I meet you you are a girl with soft brown eyes and a smile that doesn't quite reach them. From the second I first see you I fall in love with the shine of your hair and the way words fall from your mouth.

You're not sad yet, but you're not happy either. My hand brushes past your cheek and I whisper that you're beautiful. You, of course, don't hear.

I watch you grow from a girl with soft brown eyes and a smile that doesn't quite reach them to a woman with hard dark eyes and no smile at all. Your hair still shines but the words don't fall from your mouth so much as leap, bitter and harsh.

You look in the mirror while I stand behind you, arms wrapped around your waist. "I hate myself," you say, and your eyes are soft again (if only for a moment). I press the words into your shoulder, I wish that you didn't. You, of course, don't hear.

When you meet me you are a girl with teary eyes and a frown in place of a smile. Your hair doesn't shine so much as glow and no words come from your mouth.

You shake the blood from your wrists and I kiss your frowning mouth. Hello, I say, once I've pulled back, and for the first time, you hear.