In the morning, I woke up in the bed. I ran my hands down the sides of my mattress, feeling the folds of the sheets and the faint work of the stitches.
My right hand curved and felt under my bed, my fingers grazed the cool concrete as I pulled out a little brown book from beneath. Taking my eyes off the ceiling I looked up at my book that I lifted up before myself.
The dark word, now faded but still readable. Poems. Opening the book I revealed a tiny drawing of the night sky, one messy little doodle I drew way before the world turned into the place it is now. I smiled as I looked at the tiny stars. Sitting up, I placed the book in my lap as delicately as possible as if it was going to break.
Flipping through I came to a blank page that I bookmarked with my pencil just earlier that week. The page next to it wasn't bare but captured the words of my last poem, one of hatred. Hatred toward how things were run around here, yet the page before me.
I picked the pencil up, twirling it between my pointer and middle finger. I slid it into place, gripping it in my right hand, my fingers slowly grazing the wood. The tip of the pencil was down to the nub, only enough left for a few writings. I placed the pencil down on the paper, a single dot of lead, imprinted:
"You don't believe me
when I say
that you're the most beautiful girl
in the world.
it's so hard to... explain.
I don't even know you
but I love you just the same.
I've never even heard your voice,
but we talked through words.
confusing or not,
I know how I feel
the feelings that I have
seem like a big deal."
Tiny specks of lead remained on the paper before my breath blew them off. A smile formed upon my lips as I wrote the last sentence to tie the poem together, and I restart:
While you are reading my words, I wonder what would be yours. That's the sad part of the story. However, you can use my pages as a refuge for as long and often as you like. When you feel alone in a world that will never understand you, I'll be here. My words are never ending my love, as long as you don't mind repeating them. I wish I could give you everything. And more. If you wanted flowers, I would give you a field. If you wanted to fight, I would give you a war. If you wanted time, I would give you every second. But I can't... I only have words, but words might be enough to make you feel what I feel.
YOU ARE READING
Through words
RomanceA villain slowly falls in love with the reader. It starts out with the main character (the villain) introducing himself. Through the entire book he talks to the reader and falls more and MORE in love with them, but there's another character " the he...
