Dear Antoine,
Did I tell you that last night I matched my new shirt with sea salt water while looking for a comet? I swear I was just looking for that emerald star, but I came to myself and saw that my knees had joined the cold water of the sea. I looked ahead and saw the glow far away from me, but in the same crystalline waters under the moon... I had to turn back but I failed to enter my room like a skilled spy and before entering, a snake shot me. It trapped and whizzed next to my ear like wild red bees (which you know how much I hate, because of what happened in my childhood). As if I am no more than an eight-year-old child.
Antoine... the people around me don't understand my feelings and thoughts. They don't understand how much fun it is to look for stars in the sea or to sit by the pond watching the full moon with the frogs or to offer evening tea sweets to tree squirrels or to go to the forest at night to walk under the stars or ... these kinds of things that are strange to others, but God knows what passion and pleasure they have...
My dearest; Only you understand me and I wish you knew that now more than ever, I need you and the words that come from your pure heart.
- From unknown to Antoine.
YOU ARE READING
The Fig Tree
PoetryA series of a teenager's mental secretions, living through the distorting lenses of a bell jar. Just random holy yap. (جدی نگیرید ولی... روانیم.) Started in: July 12, 2024 Finished in: probably never
