026 | february twenty sixth

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don't know what to say
my heart is floating in tears

     You said that nothing haunts us like the things we don't say

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     You said that nothing haunts us like the things we don't say. My love, I have so much to say, and I am haunted constantly.

You entered my life, and I fell— hard.

The cool wind exhales its calming breath, and I find myself watching you, feeding the birds and singing to them that sweet lullaby.

Historia told me once that people fall in love at first sight— that sparks fly. She said that you know right away when you've met the person for you.

I thought it was a load of bullshit.

I still do.

I did not fall in love with you at first sight. Sure, I was intrigued by you and the way you carried yourself, as if you knew things others did not, as if you experienced things that others only had nightmares about. But I was not in love with you; I barely knew you.

No. You were just a girl, and I was just a boy— you were just a person in this hellhole.

I decided I would play the hand of the divine so many people worshipped. But you were not any girl. You were an angel.

You are an angel.

I didn't know I would fall helplessly in love when I first laid eyes upon you.

Love crept up on me like a sun setting slowly on the ocean's horizon. Like a tarantula crawling atop its intricate web. It grasped me by the neck and squeezed until I couldn't breathe. That's when I first understood that I loved you. I couldn't get you out of my head. You were everywhere.

Then, like a scarf being wrapped around my shoulders, like towering walls crumbling, I felt secure— safe. That's when I accepted it all. I was in love with you. I am in love with you.

     Nothing haunts us like the things we haven't said. I agree.

     I want to tell you all that I feel.

     The words are on the tip of my tongue.

     But something stops me.

     I wonder what it is.

     I can't seem to conjure up proper sentences when you're around. The days where I sit in silence with nothing to say have vanished.

     I want to tell you so many things, my love. But I can't. It physically pains me.

     There's some metaphysical force that keeps me quiet. It sits on my chest like a hammer. Like a collapsed house. The rubble lays in my throat, chalking up any words that I can think of. So, instead, I return to my dark bedroom and write my feelings to you.

     I love you.

     I can only hope you love me back.

february • eren yeagerWhere stories live. Discover now