people say "you'll be the death of me"

but why? you won't be my death.

you are the life of me.

you are the reason why i chose to relive this path towards hell

the sole reason why i chose to live,

i choose to live this life for you my love

i dropped your hand while dancing but you picked it from the start. you played the music from the beginning and promised me that every time i drop your hand, you'll seize them back and put them on your shoulders, put yours around my waist and pull me into a hauntingly peaceful dance, the dance of living life together.

you gave me roses and i left them there to die.

you came around on the next day, picked them up and adorned the pages of my favourite books with the dead petals, putting them between each folded pair of pages, adorning them with my remembrance of you

i miss your touch,

the way your fingers used to trace each and every freckle of mine, and the way you used to compare my face with the endless sky, saying that the freckles were stars, illuminating my face and drawing you closer to me, like a moth to the flame, even when you knew it pretty well that i was very much capable of killing you, pulling you to your depths, and suffocating you with overdrenched love

still, you loved me

and i loved you back like a child who knew nothing about heart-breaks

you warmed my heart and i tried my best to not get it to melt and mould itself around my love for you, instead i tried to mould it into gun, the trigger of which, i knew, i could never pull.

//but love, you are the trigger to my thoughts.

i miss you, i really do