what was she like? i’ve waited my entire life to be asked that question. god
what was she like? she was beautiful. she tasted like the ocean and smelled like clementines. she wore peach lipstick and brown mascara. on sundays she would fill the bathtub with roses and milk. when it was spring and the air felt raw against your skin, she would wake herself up at three in the morning and smoke cigarettes in the balcony. when i gave her roses on some date she gave them to a homeless man on the way to the restaurant. she wore dirty sneakers with the words “peace” written in red sharpie and a white dress that hugged her hips to my mothers 58th birthday party. the one where ladies asked what she was studying and she replied art history. when her mother would call begging her to come to church she would send her poems about how birds on the telephone line are her religion. she only liked walking around the city if it rained
what was she like? she went to train stations because she thought the homeless man playing the violin was the best concert she’d ever find. i often asked her what she thought of me. her laugh was like honey. when i took her to my gallery opening she invited her taxi driver. she had the moon tattooed on her inner thigh. she spelled the words “infinity” onto the crook of my neck. i remember once she took a photograph of an elderly man speaking to his wife at her gravestone.
what was she like? i woke up alone some mornings. her suitcase would be scattered and she screamed because she couldn’t pay the gas bill. our lights were turn off
what was she like? she’d light candles in every single corner of the house. she would read these big books written by russian authors who didn’t know the difference between love and lust. i laughed. i was so in love with her. the curves of her hip. the smooth of her back. her eyebrows. her smile. how her eyes were green sea’s i saw in travel brochures. what was she like? she was the type of person to write you love poetry and bake pies and convince you that 4:50 AM was the best time of day.
what is she like? and this is the part where my throat will burn and i’ll scratch my collar bones because how much it hurts. what is she like? why don't you ask heaven?
YOU ARE READING
Fire to the rain (Tom Hiddleston X Reader)
FanficYour life was in ruins. That was it. You were the most miserable person as you thought that nothing can save you. But at the breaking point of your life Tom appeared right on your way and saved the day. Or did he?
