// CASKATA'S HANDWRITING BECOMES MESSIER, AUTHOR'S SPENDING MORE TIME ANALYZING THE WORDS. THE YEAR IS STILL UNKNOWN.
THE PICTURE IS USED FOR REFERENCE ONLY.
// TW: DEPRESSION, SELF-DESTRUCTION.
i used to be antheia, resplendent and elysian.
full of love that flittered among numb creatures seeking for dead feelings as my moon levitated in the reflections of his eyes.
i asked him if i was a monster, if i showed too much of my skin. i asked if he still wanted to watch those stars with me.
i wish you looked deeper — behind my rib cage as i whelved every happy face i saw near my father. such an evanescence to my soul. i need to hear i'm a good girl just for being alive. i need to feel the approving touch of yours. i beg you to touch me for you are about to become the part of me. we can be sad together. you and me. against everyone or each other.
...
// NEXT TWO PAGES ARE RIPPED OFF AND AUTHOR DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE ABOUT THEIR FURTHER DESTINY.
...
eros. the embodiment of something divine that is him — just a boy with flaws to others, but the most meaningful creature for me.
the old gods are dead. i'm pretty sure he took it all — the constellations of their souls were born in gede's eyes. in exquisite deep raging storm.
he bought me flowers, the ones that held a meaning to me. i couldn't stop smiling as we were walking down the hill quietly mumbling old xmas song.
such a pity it won't stop me from throwing a pill down my throat in that wrecked garden again.
YOU ARE READING
vintage melancholy
Poetryif we meet again, you'll be a different phase. a new person i no longer know at all; absquatulate!
