♧
Eyes are windows, those who
lead us to the soul. Burried deep in one his body and holding all their secrets and darkest fantasies.
When one reaches the soul
of another human being, it
is exposed. We feel vulnerable.
It was not meant to be discovered.
Finding everything in that tiny piece of the extraordinary human body,
makes us feel completed and satisfied.
You will drown in the sweet
sorrow of the passion,
once it is found.
I discovered his hidden and dark soul,
it lurred me into his mind. And he found his way into my thoughts and discovered mine.
We found eachothers soul and we took it, hid it and kept it. We will always be together, connected by that part of our body and mind.
All because his eyes showed me the way, those green eyes. The ones who enchanted me and looked at me.
How they stared in awe at the contours of my body as it bended to his very own will.
How they made me feel as real
as the fantasy world we thrusted
ourselves into. Our whimpers carressed our ears and our spirits were driven by our own Heaven and Hell.
With only the touch of hands we loved eachother and we found peace in doing only that. Nothing more.
But it were the words we clarified it all with.
Both we have drifted away from our pure fantasy world, leaving me here to dwell on the forsaken sorrow. My body and mind yearn to hear his voice in the endless and powerful darkness as they await for its return, which will never come.
For that thought was confirmed
when I heard the words spoken
a moment ago, the officer spoke and everything in my body was frozen,
stopped by time.
Dark clouds roll over and rain falls down, lightning strikes perfectly and hits the ground. So it felt, hearing the sentences he spoke. Hearing the news.
Harry Styles is finally where we want him to be.
Harry Styles. Styles.
Finally knowing his whole name,
my mind completely blanks out and somewhere around me, somewhere not far away from me, I hear my mother asking the details.
How much I try to follow this conversation, my breathing distracts me and I feel the rhythm of it getting rapid. My pulse gaining its speed and so does the blood flowing through my veins, visible under my skin.
Alarming my mother of my panic attack, she tries to help me. In the meantime she tries to calm me down, I feel myself falling deeper and deeper. I miss his comforting words and touch, those things that helped me through these episodes and kept me conscious.
Breathe June, think of him. Stay strong for him.
Seeing the police officers still in the living room and their worried faces staring up at me, I focus on the painting hanging above them. Creating a spot for me to focus on.
My mother soothes me and I try to control my breathing, my heart;
I try to control everything.
I know it is impossible.
I fist the dark brown locks of my hair and pull at them, getting rid of the frustration hidden in my body.
Tears fall and create a painting of wet stains on my grey jeans.
