You make me want to live even just for a bit. This darkness of mine has never felt lighter whenever I am with you. It is weird. I have not felt any pounding whenever I recall you or your face. It’s casual not fleeting. It feels like I do not have to hold on too tightly for fear of you running way since it seems like you would stay for as long as you wanted.
I wish I had not told you I like you. I am lonely. I also want freedom. I am not a bird. Someone called me angel, and I said, “An angel. More like a fallen angel, molted wings and disgraced” but I do so long for freedom and yet I do not want to take back those words.
A fallen angel is still fallen, after all. I will hurt you, deliberately or not. I do hope so much for the latter. But I will regret hurting you, my darling. You are but a child in my eyes and I wish not to remove that innocence that binds you to the rose tinted church I was already cast out of.
My sweet, lovely child. I adore you as much as I adore my lovely petal.
But she is fleeting and you are innocently looking at the grey-winged being sitting forlornly upon the cherry tree outside the church that has sheltered you from this cruel world.
I do wish I grow ever so fond of you, my dear. For I picture forever with you.