for you, I'd bleed myself dry.

skin and bones

I adore you.

I adore you, so so much that the air around me start to slowly seep out of my lungs and leave me breathless, my ribs start to hurt, and I am left to be suffocated by your beauty. You aren't beautiful, not in my eyes at least, because the beauty that I see are the star-like flaws that lace the warm brown of your skin and the endless darkness of your eyes. You aren't beautiful, because I love those little flaws of yours, that I would kiss your eyelids and whisper words of honey to assure you that the world was yours.

I adore you, so much that I dream of running my fingers through your curls, and they would get stuck between my fingers and we would laugh, and it would sound like music to my ears. it would remind me of the songs we used to play, the melody that pulled me into an endless entrance of love, the notes that sway me in your arms all night and we would—

—we would sing together.

our voices becoming one as if we were meant to be, just like the way our hands fit perfectly into each other. yours grasped mine tightly, and you promised you would never let go, you promised you would never let go until—

—until the day it rained.

the clouds that formed above us were the visions of a nightmare, and the remnants of the night you told me you no longer longed for the freckles on my cheeks or the awkward way the corners of my mouth turned upwards when I see you. they would linger, linger around me throughout the night—and they still do sometimes, till today—just like

your scent, your gaze, your arms, your curls,

your voice, your tears, your fingers, your touch,

your words, your cheeks, your insecurities,

your skin, your heart, your bones, your blues,

your reds, your yellows, your melodies,

your untouched sweater, your artworks,

your pictures, your letters to me,

your letters to Mum, your stupid bowties,

your collection of rocks, your useless planner,

your ugly coat, your worn out shoes,

your hellos and your goodbyes,

your good mornings and good nights,

and I could go on and on about how I love you, so much that I—

I love you.

I love you.
(please, darling don't go)