♡ You’re beautiful, your stringy hair and clouded eyes and all.
They adapted the fog captured in your lungs, it ran up your throat so quickly
but you had a choice;
why wouldn’t you let it free,
why didn’t you let it go?
You ****** it back up and it went straight to your irises.
Once a lovely hazel,
a monumental illusion of safety,
my own secret pathway to a flourishing place of peace,
a place where my mind was at rest.
For once,
for once my mind and thoughts were at rest.
Now, they are grey.
They’ve lost compassion but *******
you’re still beautiful.
You’re still so beautiful despite your lack of once overflowing enthusiasm.
You’ve lost your life,
your white lips speak louder than your chiming voice in this case,
you’re so.. dead.
How’d it happen,
did you trade your life in for the cheap perfume you continuously spray on to hide the scent of your decaying heart?
Is that it?
Is this what you're communicating to me, love?
Are you communicating to me that you’ve lost yourself before you even had a chance to breathe a single breath of unadulterated air,
the air past the mist?
You gave up so easily.
But please don’t worry,
please don’t fret, my dear.
You’re still beautiful, somewhere. ♡
I wrote this awhile ago, not exactly sure when.