Wisp-of-thought - ♡ It Aches Softer Here ♡

And who am I.

If not a building block in the tower of someone else's life. An integral part of its structure. And what an honor it is to hold you up. What an honor it is to love you.

And who am i.

If not anything that you need me to be.

Who am i, to ask life to favour me when she is already so clearly taken with you. And who am i to deny life her love.

Who am i to deny life. To deny love.

And if a smile costs me nothing tangible. Just a shared touch, hand, shoulder, ear, some time; Until my entire being is leant to someone elses

Who am i.

To waste what life has given me on myself

If a smile costs me nothing tangible

Who am i to deny that thread. If I may create a stich in someone's gaping wound of a soul. To stop the outpour of blood. Enough to allow life and that soul to be in love a little longer.

Who am i do deny life. To deny love.

And if a smile costs me nothing tangible.

Just a thread.

Who am I.

To call the ache of a million strings originating from a touch, shoulder, ear, some time;

Unbearable.

As it pulls me in a million different directions.

Who am i? To tell life I cannot bear it? When others have left their bloody handprints all over me, who am i to fret over a few drops of my own?

Afterall, what an honour it is to be sacrificed in the name of life. In the name of love.

And yet who am i?

To ask someone else to lend me

A smile

A stich

A hand

Of their own

How can I ask life to stay a little longer with me, when she has so many fleeting loves? When all she asks of me is a smile. A stich.

And who am i to deny life. To deny love.

Afterall

What an honor it is to love you.

There is a boy prince who lays on this forest’s floor.

He has been here so long the ground has sunk to hold him and roots have grown to intertwine with strands of his hair and flowers have bloomed to caress his limbs. Tethering him. 

Moonshine tears itself into ribbons to descend tattered through trees to keep him company through the night, until the sun rises. And her children of light reach him at last and kiss his eyelids closed, submerging him in warmth until each morning dew drop tear has been evaporated away. 

The forest air fills his lungs until every crevice of him is teaming with the spirit of this place. Until the very essence to this forest has woven itself into the thread of his being. Until it is no longer clear who is keeping who alive. 

And yet, he stays. Soil under nails, starlight trapped in eyes, moss filling ears, the light fades and rain falls and the boy cannot lift an arm to shield himself. The beautiful flowers tie him down and he does not struggle. Even as bare branches refuse to shelter him. And no light comes down to save him.

And. 

It was not always like this. 

Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare ( @cassandraclare​)

I’ll Give You The Sun, Jandy Nelson // The Raven King, Maggie Stiefvater // If Not, Winter: Fragments, Sappho // Red, White & Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston // Carry On, Rainbow Rowell

@bookqueeen​

no need to apologize! I sometimes have a hard time with this and I feel bad about not writing as much as I would like, I do need to be reminded sometimes that it isn’t the end of the world and that I’m human, not a writing robot :’) It’s  also nice to be reminded that it’s okay to just write whatever comes out and that I can always go back and change or get rid of it later. It’s really hard to get my inner critic/editor to shut up :’)