I watch her from behind a window. Her painted face slowly fades like an illustration in a children's picture book. Sometimes I cry at night, longing for her touch, to hold her in my arms but she is not there. Only an empty bed remains. A cold harsh indent in the white sheets.
We met at a coffee shop a few years before the war. She was the kind of girl you would see once and instantly fall in love with. Her eyes kind and understanding, enveloping you in warmth with a single glance. We held hands as i walked her home. We didn't kiss goodbye. We just stood for a while in silence. As though one single look spoke louder than any proclamation of love.
I often go back to that coffee shop and retrace our steps, the movements, the touches, the small glances, but it's never the same. All I have left is a cold bed and the letters. And as the ink starts to run, staining the pages black with my tears; like water dripping down that very window I watched her from. I cry out, wishing that I had more than stray parchment to remember her by.
All I have left are the letters. But that will never be enough.
YOU ARE READING
dark academia love stories
Short Storyi'm not much of a writer but sometimes i write stuff on those youtube playlist things. someone asked me if i had wattpad so i will just put all the ones i write in this book. i doubt anyone will read this but if you do thank you :)
