[ Art is not only meant to be admired for its beauty though it's meant to be felt, felt in the depths of your soul, it should run through your veins and make you gasp for air and you dear arch you were exactly that. People felt the light you emitted in the depths of their soul, when you spoke they stopped  clocks for your words were like poetry running through their veins and oh lord when you looked at them, even for a split second their breathes fell short and you were their only source of oxygen so they feed off you, draining you of your color for you were their drug now. But I have found the colors to paint you where the world has left you grey. ]

don't fucking hmu, like seriously. don't.