𝖓𝔶𝔵 ་ །ིྀ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ೀ 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑦𝑠𝑠 ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑦 ა ᱖ ´` ⋆ﾟ ㅤㅤㅤㅤthe name is 𝖓𝔶𝔵 ৎ୭  88̲8̲ﹾ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ♡︎   ﹒ this is a acc for my ㅤㅤㅤㅤown writting.

I'm 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 of mortal apathy, The 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 of heart.

Love, I know, That I, lost but 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, Can only be fully 𝐦𝐞 If your 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 chooses to be only 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

I lived to live in that 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. I, broken but 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, believed. I, forever 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, I will be.

I, entirely 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, I know I 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 of 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. I, without thinking, Wanted to rest in your 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬.

I did everything for a 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, But it wasn’t just a 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 To me.

And from then on, I ignored your 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚, For what your 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 spoke Was contradicted by your 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. I 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 without hesitation, Never had I wanted anything this much.

The moment I saw 𝐲𝐨𝐮, I stopped 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, It no longer made any 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞, For what I had been 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, And unknowingly 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, Was with 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

But you wouldn’t 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 me, You kept 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, Kept coming 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫— So 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡, so 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫. I know it was just a 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬… But it wasn’t just a 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, To me.

I’m not one for grand 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, Breaking 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 was never for me. I’d rather 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 it, stay in my 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫— It’s 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 this way.

I already 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 you, Even 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 too, Not to come too 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞— Too 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 to me. It’s 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 this way, than something of 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐲.

You said you couldn’t stand tomboys, So I took the 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐬 without a word. I liked to think that each falling 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 Would paint your 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫 bright red. But really—what does it even matter? It’s just 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫; and it finds its way again.

I long to feel 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡, to be 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧, To be 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞, to grow 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞. It’s only 𝐮𝐬—so I believed, A 𝐯𝐨𝐰 once made, now 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝.

I feel———I swear I still feel your touch,

I was just a little girl.

And if you pay the 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 Before I do, crossing first into the 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭, I will feel no 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 in remembering you. You will return to me gently—by the 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.

No 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬, no 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 or 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟, No 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 in the eyes for what won’t stay. No 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞—we carry only 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞, And flow, as all things flow, 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

Release my hand—what use is 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? Whether we 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 or 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, we still must go. Like 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 winding gently out of sight, It's best to travel 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 and 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰.

Let us not forget, we—𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧— That 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 moves forward, never turns around. It leaves no 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭, speaks in no firm tone, Just drifts toward 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, deep and far.

I can be 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 second best, 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 but not your 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

Sit with the 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, let the stillness 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤, Even when your soul feels 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 and 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤. In the quiet, you’ll slowly 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫, A voice within that draws you 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫.