Harry died at the young age of 17. It was a shame, he had so much to give. He was smart, beautiful and kind but he grew tired of worrying, tired of feeling insecure and tired of living.
So he stopped it all.
He finally did what was on his mind for...
Fuck, you're so beautiful! So so so perfect. It's like I'm addicted to you, I can't not look at your face and in reality it's doing more harm than good, me going through our old photos.
I have multiple photo albums dedicated to us, to you. It's been a while since you left and it feels like your starting to fade. Your lockers been taken, my mum washed one of your hoodies by accident and I had this dream where I could hear you but I couldn't see you. It's like I forgot what you look like. I don't ever want to forget that. You might of hated everything about yourself, but to me you are perfect and I never want to forget you.
I need to see you.
Fuck it.
I told my self I wouldn't because it would just hurt me more, but I can't stay away any longer.
Remember that mural I said that Zayn painted? Even though he made it months ago, I refused to see up until now. It's dark but I'm almost certain there is a street light just above it.
I'll write to you when I get back.
Actually no, you can come with me.
Jeez! Im out of breath, it's difficult climbing out of my window with you and my favourite photo albums.
I'm nearly there
I took a break round the corner so I could compose myself.
I'm so pathetic aren't I?
Okay I'm going to do it.
In a minute.
Okay now.
Oh...
You're beautiful.
Fuck I wish you could see how beautiful you are Harry!
I bet you would be absolutely mortified having your face painted on the side of a building, although you shouldn't be. You truly are gorgeous and the way the street light is just illuminating the painting... making it look so real.
I can see you.
The light freckles across your nose, the crinkles by your eyes because your smile is just so big and bright and just perfect.
I'm never going to take my eyes of you... okay that's a lie because obviously I'm writing and I can't write with out looking. I'm also flipping through the photo album, still sat on the street and I just can't understand how you didn't like your self.
All those little things that you hated, are the reasons why I love you. Your stomach, your thighs, the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine, you have no idea how many nights I let my hand trace every curved and dip on your skin, whilst you muttered nonsense in your sleep against my chest. You only ever spoke in your sleep if you didn't have a cup of tea before you went to bed. It had to be my tea, the way I make it.
I love that you needed me for such domestic things.
I love the way that you would cringe at the sound of your voice on those old YouTube videos we would film on your dads old Sony camcorder.
I love the way your jeans hugged you perfectly.
I love your smile, eyes, nose, mouth and all your prefect imperfections.
I'm in love with you and all these little things.
You will never believe the words I say but I will try make you see how beautiful you are forever,
Lou x
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