stardust & silk

O C T O B E R.

i.

Isn't it ironic how on Halloween, the one day of the year where it's ok to be something you're not, I've gone as I am: dressed as the image of a bleeding heart.

ii.

It took me a while to let my heart feel again, I'd buried it under so many rocks and armored steel that I'd almost forgotten what it meant to be alive. To feel alive. But each night the moon rose and as time went on and the stars shone a little brighter, I slowly forgot the lullaby of your heartbeat.

iii.

After you I'd learnt not to expect too much from people, that sometimes, when you needed them most, they'd let you down. But he was warm and sweet and addictive and he melted my soul into the very honey I used to taste on your lips as his fingers danced across my skin, melting the ice that coated my heart and turning it into a garden brimming with life ‪and when he'd smiled at me my heart would skip a beat. The type of smile that broke hearts and put them back together in a single breath, accompanied by the type of eyes that melted hearts as they twinkled with mischief, and I was sure without a doubt that he had the type of soul that was so selfless I wondered whether one day he'd have a self left.

iv.

I like the colours of his shirts. They're red on Monday's, Orange on Tuesday's and yellow on Wednesday's. I don't tell him so, but I think Wednesday's are my favourite. When he stands there with a shirt the colour of the sun and a coffee mixed just right, reminding me of the tiny break in the clouds when there's a storm coming, letting just enough sunshine past to get me through the day