zeroclue
Don't fret with my claims, dear love. I'll protect you (from paintruthwordschoice), and I'm always true to my word, aren't I?
Step away and come into my arms, precious.
You've always wanted to go to the moon. You wonder if it's underwhelming to sit there, staring at the stars and the blue swirling marble below. Maybe you'd send moon rocks and space dust for our birthdays - a reminder that you're still alive, and not very far away. Maybe we'll see you twinkling in the sky, coated with astro dust and existing among the stars like the unreachable dream you are.
Maybe you'll remember us, and I'll be lucky to even see you again in a hundred years.
You're pulling me in like an undercurrent, strapping me with talons and wires and jagged lines. I don't know what will happen, what you want to happen, just that they will. This dread claws at my throat and pushes me under, pushes me back, until there's nothing but the vastness of an overwhelming feeling neither of us can escape.
He's an elegant boy; his movements subtle, laced with quiet arrogance and an uncanny secret knowledge of the grand scheme of things. He has a hidden smirk, as if he knows the world's story from beginning to end. He watches people. They never watch him back.
It's funny how the world misses out on so much, when they can just stare at this boy and see grace, beauty, and arrogant little smiles. It's funny how I can see so much with just the way he picks up his coffee, smiling like the world doesn't matter and time doesn't matter and I...
"Oh, where are my manners?" he says. "I don't think I particularly care, but what's your name?"
There's something up there. I don't know what or who. But sometimes she talks to me. It drives me crazy because it's like talking to an imaginary friend that's real.
I want to go on the cross-roads; on a countryside road trip where the possibilities are endless and the highways can take us anywhere and everywhere. I want to feel the wind as we breeze by the open road, emptying our wanderlust with adventures and stories and people half a world across from our homes.
I want to see the world with my curious eyes, and I want to take you with me.
Distantly, in a battlefield of blood and echoing cacophony, I hear you calling. Somewhere, you are there. Perhaps in a different time, in different circumstances, we could have been best friends. You are my most important person, and I'm glad to have met you.
She thinks of Lord of the Flies and Catcher of the Rye. She doesn't know why, but something about her friend's novel makes her think of brooding teenagers and lonely islands. She wonders if that means anything to her friend.
Her hope lies between summer and spring, the short period of time when the days are hot enough to warm her skin. She met him during the days one of the rare spring storms hit her little town, his smile infectious and engaging under the harsh wind. She can never forget him, because he'll always greet her a good morning even when the storm wouldn't let up.
Dainty lips, chapped with lies and the insomniatic mind - I wonder how it would taste with mine, when our breaths mingle and there's only the ghost of a distance between us. This gnawing curiosity is eating me, like a cancerous drug.
Your a sweet little thing. Do you know that?
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