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(Dear, why does your lover cry) she whispers of your name as if it were leech. Reaching within her insides as if you yet feel love for her. Why does she sit, quilt in hand, ink diffuse into ripped parchment as she writes vigorously. Her hands bleed, smearing against the table whilst tears trickled across her angelic features. All this love she carries is too heavy to be filled into a single letter, she needs to write more. She couldn't leave you alone with all this love. Hence, she wrote and wrote until the quilt scratched her palms and the callouses on her hands bled. She bled and bled until she was bruised of your love. She wrote until you responded. She wrote until you had finally cherished her. Lover of her what have you created. Those eyes were the tales of her letters. Why do you despise her?
( My love, agápi mou, agápi mou, my life. I love you. I don't think I'll ever get tired of my spasmodic love. I don't think I'll get tired of my love for you. I need you. I bleed for you. I yearn of your embrace. I yearn of your touch. Is it wrong to love like this? It feels raw. It feels wet. You are my sin, I am your plague. I utter nonsense yet, my love will leave such an imprint on your heart that you will yearn for me just as I do to you. I am nothing without you. I want to bite the crook of your neck, just to see if your blood is filled with the similar tenderness I contain. I want to savor your heart, I want to feel cherished by you. Your mouth is filled with lies. But, you do it to not sadden me. Right?Please! please please! please. You don't know what this makes me feel. My heart cannot handle my love for you, it drowns of love, it bleeds of love! agápi mou just love me! Love me just as I do. I will pierce my stomach with blades just so you'll be the one coated in blood. My blood—My soul, my body, my teeth, my skin. All yours to take. Pluck my teeth one by one and I will be coated of glee. )
Letters you never read. Not even a glimpse. It is not your burden to carry. Right?
