Side note: There are so many beautiful sentences in this that I honestly can’t pick just one to mention.
Here is our love story - pages torn from withered journals, and held up to the sky, because the only ink that will ever taste as sweet as your tongue will have to come from the sun. It’s rays are your locks of hair, with moon dust shining highlights into the curls that cling to your cheekbones. I wrapped my veins around you like thread, a crimson chain bound by our breath - not even death could tear us apart. Skin so dark I saw our future which knew no bounds. Those eyes told me the pain of our time when we were away, in this ocean of the past. Kissing in the rivers of God I only touched what I could and hid you away.
I took off my skin and showed you my soul. The part which had not been tainted by the reality of men. Bone dust came off the blood that had been starved from your oxygen. It told the story of how much my heart bled for you, yearned for you. Those lips that were so sweet, bringing peace in this organ that had long since failed. Only you could revive what was once gone, in this reign of love I touched you.
I dug a hole where everything that was me could go. I carve out my eyes so I could be blind to the truth. Stitched my mouth so I can never speak a word. I went inside my grave and I found the monster under my bed. He told me we never touched only in our minds. I cried from black holes that were left, no one saw the beauty like you did. I wonder why this love story ended. I hunger to taste a glimpse of what is left. Weave cliches into your corpse. Something that is uniquely you.
Here is our love story - our corpses intertwined with that journal that you never burned because it was the only memory that would be able to contain us.
Regular by deadfiction, italics by skysaredoorwayshome
