He gets more pale.
some times i wonder if he even wants to show up, when the moon glistens down into the river.
the mountain seems to grow more and more lifeless every passing day, the trees wither and no more flowers bloom.
it was only the beginning of summer, yet the cold winter had already shown itself.
it was darker earlier now, it gets colder earlier now.
but the moon shines brightly earlier now, seungmin quietly takes a seat next to me earlier now- as we both take in eachother presence.
i have so many questions, none of which i can ask.
because when he sits down- and his warmth covers my icy skin- my thoughts are enveloped with him.
a drug i can't get enough of.
on most days i talk to him quietly, waiting for responses that i don't get. but today i stayed quiet and let the lost boys aura seep into my mind, taking over my thoughts.
driving me insane.
until; he spoke. for the first time in so long, i heard the angels voice. whether he remained an angel or not- his voice was heavenly, but with an essence of sin. As i couldn't get enough of it.
he was perfectly addicting.
" what are you
thinking about? "
" you. "
the lost boy felt his blood burn
and his skin crawl,
it hurt everywhere
especially his chest.
he was internally bleeding emotions
he couldn't expose,
letting them drown his insides.
he looked up at the moon,
pain reaching ever part of his body-
his toes curled
in the grass he sat in.
he wants to say
he too was thinking of the boy,
he wants to be able to
hand his heart over
in return of the others.
but the strings of fate
had stitched his mouth.
they could never be.
┃pay attention to the most obvious details opposed to the smaller ones, they always say. or is it the other way?