insatia
Hello you. It's been awhile hasn't it? I have been walking this path for awhile now that I never thought I'd meet you again. Ever. Here. Of all places. I trust that you've been well? I've missed you. I did. Once in the bluest of moons, I do, time and again, lay my eyes on your cruel fairness. Though I am cured of you, these scars are staunch reminders of our midnight strolls of madness. Do you still remember those nights? Nights where you cradled in my careless mind, nestled amongst the thorns of my past. You were the sky. Elegant in black with stars in your hair. The moon in your eyes. And I was a puddle. How did I ever hope to portray you? Each dip into the ink of my heart stirs your reflection. Despoils your splendor. Thus, I imprison my pen for the crime of composing grotesque misshapen words. My ink overflows and dries on crumpled papers.