dear death,

i am still feeling the same way i did two years ago. i havent written to you in a while, and ive missed you, so much. why dont you touch me the way you used to anymore? why dont you take me into your solid embrace so i can feel the fragility of my skin and the brittleness of my bones and the fluidity of my blood against your unmoving love? i wish you would sink your teeth into my flesh, draw all the blood that i have lost through the mouths of my skin. caress my cheeks with your cold fingers, feed off the drizzles from my eyes, just like you used to. ive missed the goosebumps you raise on my skin and the smoothness of yours against mine, ive missed being part of you, ive missed the emptiness of me in you and you in me. the words that leave my lips these days have been as barren as the promise of your claim.

have you forgotten everything you swore the last time you took my hands in yours, clammy and cold, the spaces between your fingers too big for mine? have you forgotten the night you led me into the curtained woods, the soil under my body and your weight heavier than gravity could ever be? i hope you remember the numbing stars under which you made the oath of love to me, cracked lips on my full ones, the austere moon dull and blunt, a mirror of our passion and fervency. i hope you remember your finger wrapped around mine, the deal sealed with a final plunge of desperation. i hope you remember my flaws. i hope you remember me. where did you go? why did you go? did you lose me somewhere? did i lose you?

do you talk to other souls now? do you talk to sadness, too? shes a very good friend of mine, running through my veins at constant velocity, but she isnt you, death. she circulates around my entire being and floods my heart with her love, but she isnt you— she will run through my heart and leave a trail of kisses but no she will not cease the flow of red. and fate– if you meet her anytime soon, please tell her to change her plans for me. and what about time? i doubt you speak to him much, you wouldnt get along very well, i think. i dont talk to her much, either. she never stops by for a visit. i wish you would. and i wish i could see the world through your eyes, the monochrome souls of this helpless race, giving their damaged bodies to you. why dont you take me, too? i am still in love with the hypnosis of your mouth claiming mine, the hollow of your bones transcending into the thoughts in my burdened mind, just so i could feel you again. why dont you feel me again? feel the way my flesh contours around your pale skin, our angularity colliding into each other in the most anarchic harmony, the obstruction of our clavicles turning our skin black and blue in such unison— oh death, together we compose the most beautiful song, a tribute up to chopin and the moon, art more beautiful than van goghs strokes could have ever been.

this is you, this is us in motion with the world, you might have given up on me, but death, i will go after you and when you feel the tap on your shoulder, take me, devour me, and well drift into the vacuity of existence, all the way to the stars that refuse to predict my fate.

love in all ways always,
me xx


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