"𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗶 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵/ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗶𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗺𝗮 𝗶 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳."
— my luna but
i'm not
your sol

the heat of the day pushed against the window, and not long after, i heard the overwhelming incessant tune of roars, it amused me how the droplets did their li'l foxtrot dance and resemble what happened to us. a thought run by my head as i walk through a memory lane. oh how i wish i could change the history by setting the clock's hand on a counter pace and never let butterflies leave my stomach as our gazes met, never let silence reverberate with squawks like a piercing cacophony in a distance for your heart to cut it strings on mine.

darling, if i didn't push you to seek love in the arms of another man will our fate change? in the midst of being lost in tempo and finding your rhythm through leaping the originated step, if i let you sync in beat with me and sway on a quintessential manner like lovesicks would we end the same way? isn't ironic that i'm the protagonist of my own life but i'm merely a side character in yours. it torments me so much that i couldn't just rewrite our story and collide our fates till eternity. but if loving also means setting everything on end; then let me, let go of you for me to be just a vivid evocation along with your nonpareil world— your man.

"and... as i stare through the soul of city lights, i noticed that just like a book you're greedy to turn my pages so quickly wanting more and more of me but each words you devoured brings you closer to the end, the edge of me."
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