Honest Fragile Hearts [DISCONTINUED]

Anonymous Love

Part V- Anonymous Love

-

anonymous

i sleep behind

the pillows of bellowed

grey dark clouds

with the blanket

of a night sky.

i see you,

but you cant.

i listen to you,

but you cant.

i talk to you,

you answer without reply.

who am i?

who the hell i am?

oh, i'm anyone but me,

i live in the unknown dungeon,

i take people's minds,

my name is anonymous.

-

Times when people kept thinking- is it possible for someone to like someone they haven't met? Possibly fell inlove with their words, or how they portrayed their emotions. How is it possible?

Vernand had thought about that. He kept his letters underneath the box, and the things that came along with it. Although it was in a boy's place to write letters, he still liked it.

The letters were always yellow. Each words in the letters portray some sortof meaning, and it would take him three more letters to find out. They connect, the letters. It was written delicately with red handwriting of the hand he never touched, possibly.

He knew it was a girl. He had suspicions. The girl in class who kep making paper planes? The girl in his English subject who always likes to write? The girl in Chemistry who liked suspense? The girl he never seen perhaps.

Regardless of who she was, He fell. The letters would come every two days in two weeks. Sometimes, he couldn't understand the deep words. Most times, It rhymed. The letters was what kept him going on with mysteries and solving them just like how his Mom liked.

He remembered when he was a child, His mother told him they hoped for a baby girl and got a Vernando instead. Then at the age of 13 when he can understand and think properly, he was given a red pendant which was heart shaped.

His mother told him about the past stories that were captured inside that studded necklace. She even let him ought not to break, lose it or damage it. Then she told him to give it to someone special on specifically on Valentines.

It was cheesy, as it really sounded. Nonetheless, He liked how their silly traditions went. He snucked out class and turned to his locker to find a secret yellow paper sticking out it's tale in the shades.

" If you could ask/ who my name was/ I am Annabelle Lee/ of who was blown away/ by the toturous wind/ and I am the clouds/ who lay lying still/ but I am the wind/ that could blow away/ words and thoughts. " It read.

Each day, the more the poem gets harder to understand. Maybe her name was Annabelle Lee- yet he knew everyonen in this Campus (ever since) and never had he once heard Annabelle Lee.

He thought and thought. The name must have a simple code, and maybe the wind- the cloud and Annabelle Lee being blown away had a symbol. They were all meaningful, and he would spend the rest of his day spacing out and thinking about it.