our forbidden lagoon

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our forbidden lagoon

april27twenty18

I was on my very last hope, ready to depart and settle for a night uncelebrated, when suddenly - from the long intermission burst a firework of light that showered sparks into my chest.

under muttered breaths and hidden tears washed away in the drain, I consoled myself over a pain I never expected to feel, a hollow aching so considerably that it's a mystery as to how this body can hold itself together.

staring at screens and listening to people who I'll never meet speak, taking on their voice and drowning out the parts of me that will bring up the happiest moments of my entire life, knowing they will cripple me.

I planted seeds in the hollow and they have yet to grow, even though all of the seeds in the soil have. I wonder if my body's been made a wasteland by the landfill emotion that plows through me with every passing day. I'd like to hope that it serves as fertilizer, but that might just be false hope.

and every time - the sky still remains blue, your blue, and the stars are still awake. but there is no true daylight. there is no quest to end the story the way it should be, unless you want it. but of course, we've both got things to do.

I'm still picking at stitches, watering seeds. planting flowers - come find me.

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