FOLKLORE- THE LOVE TRIANGLE
  • Reads 55
  • Votes 11
  • Parts 8
  • Time 31m
  • Reads 55
  • Votes 11
  • Parts 8
  • Time 31m
Ongoing, First published May 10, 2024
Mature
Cause I knew everything when I was young...

I'm only 17, I don't know anythin'...

August slipped away into a moment in time, cause you were never mine....
All Rights Reserved
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π•΄π–“π–Šπ–π–™π–—π–Žπ–ˆπ–†π–‡π–‘π–ž π–„π–”π–šπ–—π–˜ | 𝐊𝐒𝐦 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧 || by Vexmuse_ot7
17 parts Ongoing Mature
From the moment we met, I felt it-like my soul leaned forward before I did. Like it remembered something my body had long since buried. You looked at me like you'd done it before. Like you'd watched me break once and still chose to come back for more. There's a silence in you that feels familiar. A grief in your smile that mirrors mine. We don't speak of it, but I feel it-like the echo of a goodbye we never got to say. I tried to fight it. To be logical. But logic doesn't explain why my hands shake when yours brush mine. Or why, when you sleep, I trace your face like I'm storing it... again. Some loves don't start. They continue. In ruins. In whispers. In the spaces where time forgets. And whatever this is, it's not new. It's just us... finding each other again. _ π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’'π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘’, π‘π‘Žπ‘π‘¦. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 π‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘’. 𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘žπ‘’π‘–π‘’π‘‘, 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘œπ‘ -π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘β„Ž, π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘ π‘Žπ‘β„Žπ‘’, 𝑖𝑑'𝑠 π‘šπ‘’. 𝐼 π‘œπ‘€π‘› π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘, π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘ π‘œπ‘’π‘™, π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘π‘œπ‘‘π‘¦. π‘π‘œπ‘‘ π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ž π‘šπ‘œπ‘šπ‘’π‘›π‘‘, π‘›π‘œπ‘‘ 𝑗𝑒𝑠𝑑 π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ž π‘›π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘- 𝑏𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘™π‘š, π‘Žπ‘π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘ π‘  π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘’π‘›π‘–π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘ π‘’, π‘¦π‘œπ‘’'𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑑𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 π‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘’. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 β„Žπ‘Žπ‘£π‘’ π‘‘π‘œ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› π‘˜π‘–π‘›π‘”π‘‘π‘œπ‘šπ‘  π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘ π‘‘π‘–π‘šπ‘’ π‘Žπ‘π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘ π‘‘π‘œ π‘˜π‘’π‘’π‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’, 𝐼 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘–π‘› β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘£π‘’π‘› π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› β„Žπ‘’π‘™π‘™ π‘‘π‘œ π‘˜π‘’π‘’π‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’, 𝑠𝑀𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔.
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π•΄π–“π–Šπ–π–™π–—π–Žπ–ˆπ–†π–‡π–‘π–ž π–„π–”π–šπ–—π–˜ | 𝐊𝐒𝐦 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧 ||

17 parts Ongoing Mature

From the moment we met, I felt it-like my soul leaned forward before I did. Like it remembered something my body had long since buried. You looked at me like you'd done it before. Like you'd watched me break once and still chose to come back for more. There's a silence in you that feels familiar. A grief in your smile that mirrors mine. We don't speak of it, but I feel it-like the echo of a goodbye we never got to say. I tried to fight it. To be logical. But logic doesn't explain why my hands shake when yours brush mine. Or why, when you sleep, I trace your face like I'm storing it... again. Some loves don't start. They continue. In ruins. In whispers. In the spaces where time forgets. And whatever this is, it's not new. It's just us... finding each other again. _ π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’'π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘’, π‘π‘Žπ‘π‘¦. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 π‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘’. 𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘žπ‘’π‘–π‘’π‘‘, 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘œπ‘ -π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘β„Ž, π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘ π‘Žπ‘β„Žπ‘’, 𝑖𝑑'𝑠 π‘šπ‘’. 𝐼 π‘œπ‘€π‘› π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘, π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘ π‘œπ‘’π‘™, π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘π‘œπ‘‘π‘¦. π‘π‘œπ‘‘ π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ž π‘šπ‘œπ‘šπ‘’π‘›π‘‘, π‘›π‘œπ‘‘ 𝑗𝑒𝑠𝑑 π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ž π‘›π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘- 𝑏𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘™π‘š, π‘Žπ‘π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘ π‘  π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘’π‘›π‘–π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘ π‘’, π‘¦π‘œπ‘’'𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑑𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 π‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘’. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 β„Žπ‘Žπ‘£π‘’ π‘‘π‘œ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› π‘˜π‘–π‘›π‘”π‘‘π‘œπ‘šπ‘  π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘ π‘‘π‘–π‘šπ‘’ π‘Žπ‘π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘ π‘‘π‘œ π‘˜π‘’π‘’π‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’, 𝐼 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘–π‘› β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘£π‘’π‘› π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› β„Žπ‘’π‘™π‘™ π‘‘π‘œ π‘˜π‘’π‘’π‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’, 𝑠𝑀𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔.