the toxicity of your existence runs through my veins like an addictive poison. your love pumps my heart and your sweet words are what makes up my blood. sweetest John, you are a breath of fresh, clean air on a humid day. your valor is like honey on my sore throat and a look into your eyes gives me the same comfort as sitting by a roaring fire after a plundering thunderstorm.
you are all of these things to me, the good and the bad.
what am i to you? a love, once. a great and passionate love. but know? after the accusations and the evilness that has shown through you? i see myself how you see me: a child with a radical dream.
how can i change this, my love? i have a need to be held in your arms once more. you were so sweet then, and so tender. your soul is a tainted one, but it shines with purity nonetheless. that is the soul i fell in love with.
what version of my soul made you fall for me? am i not the same girl, same loving and attentive girl, that i once was?
my dear, my love, what you are to me is a shadow. Ever-moving, ever-changing, gone when covered by a bigger being.
yours,
abigail
