American Horror Story: Violet & Tate

Strange Love

I remember...
Dancing under moonlit nights, vintage movies playing on the crackling TV and most of all breathing. Heaving one breathing and blowing out another, Feeling the cool breath invade my withered lungs. Feeling the hiss of the blade as it bites into my porcelain skin. I miss my mother calling from downstairs for me to come to breakfast with her pregnant belly bulging with the two bodies inhabiting it. I miss the feeling of food sliding into my gut to be produced into energy. The feeling of indulging in a meal of feta and spinach omelette and maple syrup and bacon. Now I don't need anything to sustain me, I simply be. Living in a wide open space called earth that used to mean so much to me. Through the grogginess of death I saw Tate as he held me tightly in his arms. His face was a mask of pure anguish and sadness. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he cried, cried and cried. His love for me was an aura pouring out of him and reaching for me. I used to remember feeling an urge to love someone as much as that and now that I had someone I didn't know what to do... And how he must feel to loose me.