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No one on Earth has made me feel quite the way you can make me feel. There is not an inch of shame in my heart when I speak that aloud.
On the days when it filled up my lungs, it was as if my very soul itself was cradled with curiosity in aerated gold. When I think of you, I think of gold.
In all of its qualities. Unfortunately, for better or for worse, gold is malleable. There won't be any gold tinted dust motes floating past my vision, amidst an early morning sun beam, wind rustling our curtains.
I'd like to believe there was a time I made you feel a modicum of something similar. When I look back on one of your first gifts to me, it makes me think I had. Back when you encouraged me to feel special, gestured towards my inner essence being seen.
To date, no one has ever made me feel as witnessed. Problem is, somewhere along the routes we individually took, you stopped wanting that. Somewhere, at some period, I stopped looking interesting enough for you.
Do you know how you've always inspired me? From the day we met. When I'd post artwork I'd poured myself into there was no one I wanted recognition from more. Do you know the shame you still relieve in me simply by the example you lead?
Problem is, I don't think I've ever quite sparked that enough within you. Foolish, thinking I'd finally found a human being who knew how to sing to my soul. There is no red thread tied between our fingers.
I still remember when your own friend told me that you'd gone and told them. As if it was a vent, as if my affections were a weight to pry off of your chest in a panic.
There was a time you asked me wholly to be yours. I doubt, no, I'm sure you don't remember doing so anymore. Was that the day you planted a seed in my soul that was never cultivated enough to flourish?
Do you know how many years I've asked myself how my life would look nowadays if I'd said yes? Do you know how badly I wanted to take your hand? There's always been a different one you've found to grasp in its place.
You've admitted recently when you see beaches, you think of me. At the time, I found it best not to express the wonder that statement evoked. What would be the point? The you I've been so enthralled with is a you from what seems like a decade ago.
There is no point in speaking any of this to you. This isn't something you would want to hear about, not from me. Perhaps, not want to hear from anyone.
All I know is I shouldn't have to prove myself to you all over again. I'm too occupied mourning something you wouldn't be able to empathize with.
- MythosCategory Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Kirin
Size 2166 x 1701px
File Size 387.2 kB
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