D a r l i n g,

"No one reminds a little girls how boys with such pretty eyes, who smell like smoke and taste like rain, who talk like silver, are the reason behind their tear-soaked pillows, half-finished poems and so very many sad dreams. So after you left, she took lessons from the ever-changing and fluid winds; you may have known her as an ocean breeze, but now, know her as a H u r r i c a n e. And while I'm busy being a hypnotic and wretched poet, you may try and converse hypothetically in your head with me- if it's a matter of life and death, if your wasted breaths are going to halt- then leave a message to me after this beep, though be forewarned that I am currently trying to figure which way is south. Because sometimes, the air stills in the destructive anticipation of a Hu rr ic ane"

BEEP

"Hurricane, you had once asked me what could I possibly see in you. Right now, while I am drinking down death, I know the answer- e v e r y t h i n g. I see everything in you, because the stardust that makes you is the very same that sculpted me"