vintage melancholy

VI. yesufi ābeba wibeti

// gede's POV
// GEDEYON'S DIARY. JUNE 13.
// author thinks it's been 9 months since gede and cas met

ABUNDANCE

oh.
her bronze bush of hair got tangled up in golden ears of sun.

vintage blanket palliates two sharp mountains filled with grey rivulets, with silky puffy cottons of ice and creamy fluid eddies.

do you feel what i feel when i kiss your hands?
never seen a goddess more graceful than you.

i flung the past affairs aside and gave in.
no more actors on the scene; only me and red curtains behind. i'm an actor of one play, the one that seemed like a loop. i'm an actor of one play, that play you swallowed all at once by the seaside.

it's quite hysterical, ch'erek'a.
you thought i was just a little silly boy that smokes twenty cigarettes a day with no tomorrow's purpose. i smoke, i read, i drink. i start a fight with you and i see you cry. i crash myself and like a fucking dog i stay on your doorstep, folded up. wretched, paltry, shabby puppy waiting for an approval to come back.

how cold it is to sleep at nights without you. to freezing brains, to crashing bones.

i'm happy you stay even after all of that.

i capture moments with my eyes. you running away in a long fluffy dress that i bought you, and i hear thousands laughs echoing in my ears. my head hurts.

GEDE! GEDE!
i weave wildflowers in those threads of lusty boldness and breeziness as you point out to butterflies and skies. sometimes i feel like i'm no comparison to you — you see things i never knew existed.

i believed i was the smartest. the rottenest of them all. i saw the harpies and was on a new circle of hell, wriggling and stirring me up while you were at your happy place. but who said people knew what happiness meant for us? maybe it was that another deep question i despised hearing.

i wish i could buy you flowers and put it in a crystal vase that is my heart. at least i knew for sure you were taking care of it. please...

i wrote you hundred letters and put them under my bed. you're aware i only write when i'm drunk so i'd never allow you to see that mess. you know, they are pretty naive and stupid to read when i awake in whiskey and ash. still, deep inside i hope you'd read them and look at me like i matter.

i'm lost and there is no home but the one i call your embrace. i stayed under your windows all night. you are mad, i know.

i knock.

NOT TODAY.

i brought you sunflowers.

I'M MAD.

i know i'm sorry.

you opened the window and i stopped breathing.

something inside him twists and tosses - something frantic consumes all his heart and everything around him. he sees the stars that are now his only friends - they voluptuously waltz in the sky, mocking him -- a basic boy -- for never becoming so wholesome, so important. gedeyon feels devastation, he can never be a star, he can never shine for someone - devils that are perpetual Scyllas devoured the last piece of the used rag that is his soul.

caskata isn't aware she is his gekata. gedeyon cherishes any night soul that was lost on the way of finding and embracing itself.

gedeyon never wants to feel absorbed again.