Dive in the depths of my sea and pretend that stars are not found in heaven, and pearls shine bright just the same; that my blood breathes life to countless things while I bathe in cruelty and pain. Feel how my wave caresses your ego, and how it turned me salty and dry. Think of all my fail attempts to raise my voice for you to hear me bleeding, and see how I fell to an even deeper hole each time I try.
Darling, love is not painted with the brightest of colors. It is a gradient plain of smiles and tears, of hopes and fears.
Can you even hear my heartbeat? The blood that trickles down my wrist, how can you not see it? How can you choose to see what’s only beautiful to your eyes and not embrace the things you despise?
You told me you love me as bright as the sun, and as constant as the stars that paints our evening sky. Yet every time I try to cry for your help, I feel like a ghost, a lost soul that you suddenly cannot be bothered to see, and all my tears and pleas fall to deaf ears. How many times will you pretend that my tears are raindrops from the sky and my sobs echoes of thunder? How many pieces should my heart be shattered just for you to know that I’m in pain? Or should I cut you with its shard for you to have at least a little glimpse of my torment?
Darling, love is not only the upbeat music you listen to when you are happy. Love is also the melancholic ballads that seduce your tears to fall at every note.
Oh my sweet clueless sprout, hear me.
When you love something, it is either you will accept nothing or you will embrace everything.
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