d e a r v i o l e t
somedays when i think about you, it seems so real, like it was just yesterday. each time it's like a fresh wound reopening, a scar that would never heal.
i can almost feel myself stroking your tourmaline hair, and panicking when tufts of it came loose in my hands. i can almost see the p u c e bruises marbling your ivory skin, that would turn black-and-blue from the slightest touch.
you were like the most delicate, fragile glass. i held you as tightly as i could, but always so, so careful not to break you.
i didn't hold you tight enough, because you slipped through my fingers. you broke.
(now i'm shattered into a million smithereens,)
c h a r l i e
YOU ARE READING
Dear Violet
Poëzied e a r v i o l e t all the letters i wrote that you'd never get, the words i penned that you never read; of all the shades of you.
