My dear Heathcliff
"My soul's bliss kills my body, but does not satisfy itself." My dear Heathcliff, I could alphabetize your cruelties on my small little fingers. For, when I should have been picking crumbled petals from beneath the barren ground of an age old tree, I was counting to ten, obsessively undoing the harms you unleashed on my body I've never been a saint, I wished that your life would come undone in a similar manner For when I held your face and prayed, You let my self-abandon be. For when I cocooned myself into your arms, You let my self abandon be. For when I tugged to your crocheted black tshirt, You let my self abandon be. We were not searching for meaning, we both know it It died on us a long time back as refugees die under open skies It was something primal I know you fain call yourself a romantic rebel As much as I call you a black swan, witnessing you under the drifting sunrays of a train window Obviously the shadows double down on me, darkeni...
