Have you ever felt the crumbling galaxies inside you starting to come back to life when you hear his name?
Because I do.
The first time I've stumbled upon him, I knew from the very moment that he was peculiar - aesthetically different.
He was eccentric and unpredictable. But he was the kind of art an aesthete would crave and long for. He was more than a safe haven, a sweet escape - his words, I wouldn't mind drowning at all.
I've fallen for a guy who loves the beauty and admires the strength of letters put into words. The feeling was intoxicating, it was like finding someone who will fill you with words you didn't know were there.
I fell in love so hard with his profound works of art. He has his way of connecting within the deepest part of my soul. In my darkest days, he unknowingly filled me with so much courage. He saved me by becoming a beacon of light whilst I'm lost in the sea of darkness.
I admired him so much that every aesthetic I saw reminds me of the beauty he is made of - the break of dawn, the starry nights, the full moon, the morning sun beams, the bright city lights, the cosmos.
Most of all, I've fallen for his undying passion to move one's heart even if he's on the peak of his fragility. He can calm others' chaos when he can't even handle himself. I have loved him for his fervent selflessness, his good heart, and his faith.
And me? I was a flight risk. The taste of ambiguity seemed sweet to me. But the taste of my unspoken love seemed extraordinary knowing that it was the kind of love so modest above all, because I was inlove with his soul.
So without any hesitations, I jumped into the sea of uncertainties hoping he'd be there too. It's just lately when I realized that I was already on my free-fall; I might end up like a crushed wall or might end up left with nothing at all.
Now that I'm broken, nothing hurts more than watching you gaze at her like she was the first raindrop after a long withering weather yet she chose to fall somewhere else where you don't belong.
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Why am I writing such things to you if you'll not gonna read it anyway? But here's some taste of the words I wanted you to hear:
To the writer I fell in love with,
You will be the lasting ink printed in colors of black and white. You will contain the happiest sentence I could ever write while I just happen to be the mere spaces between your beautiful words; existing but beautifully out of sight.
Words: Haize Gaile, To the writer I fell inlove with