I felt sorry for her because I was confident that I won’t be impressive to any man like what she did. I felt sorry for her because I was confident that I'll never be pathetic if I fell hard to the ground. I felt sorry for her because I was confident that my core will never be wrecked. It will be whole and immense like the love I have always given. She has so many things to say, so many feelings that she wanted you to know but in all her honesty, she doesn’t know how and where to start a conversation with you. Should she start by saying all the thank you’s like she usually does? Should she start with just a simple “Hi” and “How are you?” or should she start directly with both of your personal issues? She doesn’t know. So please let me be her voice that she kept down to her core for a long time now.
I love every strand of your hair. I love every expression of your eyes. I love your pointed nose. I love your thin, smooth, soft lips. I love how you look me in the eyes. There’s no profound meaning though. It was a cold and rainy night.
I stared at you when you were already sleeping on that small bed—too contracted for us that made us unintentionally touch each others' skin. "Ugh! Whore" "It seems like you've been in prison already." "Why did you put such dirt on your skin? You're ruining your body!" We frequently hear these expressions whenever others see a girl who has a great deal of tattoos on her skin. |
Esthete:
'es-theet' (n.) A person who affects great love of art, music, poetry, etc., and indifference to practical matters. El Esthete or The Aesthete in English, is where I share my Literary works, artworks, and everything else in between. Categories:
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2018 Komiket
February 24 and 25, 2018, 9AM-7PM, The Elements at Eton Centris |