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we were the abstract type.
dancing off the walls, prancing not-so gracefully through fields of burning oranges and yellows. we lived lives of the unfathomable. the very air we breathed blew foreign words of feelings people continuously fail to feel. we looked at the moon from afar, and imagined our hands running along it's calloused threshold. lights that flashed of reds and blues grew from the very grounds we walked on. roses spurred from the recesses of our stomachs, and dropped their seeds to sprout next spring. our ludic mindsets inspired no one but ourselves, for lifetimes to come.
we killed ourselves in the process, but did you expect for us to survive? to see the result of our turgid chaos?
how could you, when you jumped first? i made sure to grab your hands, warm at the touch, but cold at heart.
i recall that i gave you the name realm searcher, because you were never satisfied with just one. you were prone to move, to leave, to search for somewhere that would welcome you with arms wider than the cyan sky,
arms wider than mine.
and it ultimately destroyed you. but i guess that was coming anyways,
because, why do you think roses have thorns, my love?
