let me tell you about the cigarette smoke, the blue of your eyes, the grief in mine and the flicker of hope.
Let me tell you about the 2am silence and the constant longing to escape.
About how I steal the moonlight and write words on my skin.
About how the dark has been corroding my dreams for years, but I’m still breathing.
Let me tell you about how I refuse to accept that pain is timeless. That timelines are set and we weren’t meant to meet.
I can’t accept that the nightingale will die for nothing once again.
Because I know. I know you. I know who you are.
And yes, everything is white and it’s getting colder, and we are too far from the safe-house.
But if you hold my hand I won’t let go. I won’t let you fall, I won’t let you break, ever.