VEIL'D MELANCHOLY.

XIX - WE ARE THE SAME PERSON, BUT SEPARATED [ UNE LETTRE ]

Ma chère moitié,
What words can I pour out for you, in an attempt to give grounds for all my emotions? To say you're the solitary owner of my heart, to say that your construction of sentences is such that my heart vaults out of its cage, will be an euphemism. Every scent, every noise, it all ties itself back to you. You resonate in the vacant walls of my heart, there is comfort. There is a home, where there is you. If I tried to pour my emotions into a cup of elixir, I'd immortalise our love. A love that is to be heard of, only to those who yearn for it enough. Even its mere acknowledgement being a gratuity in its own.

You tip over colour into my monochromatic world, colours I didn't even know had an objective reality. They're alluring, they're vibrant, they perforate through the surface of my soul. Rose petals float through the melancholic grey skies, the winds of night dancing on our finger tips. The kind to which, even the ocean is a slave. Closer, closer, as close as you can be. Lead the way, and my feet will tread at your heels, like a heart intoxicated on endearment. A heart to which your voice is a melody, a bittersweet remedy. It draws in your voice, your sound, it sinks through the terrains of my flesh, and domiciles in my veins. This is how you set my body on fire.

Even during the darkest hours, you make it seem like the beginning of a sunrise. A sunrise, where the colours melt into each other. Where the sky is immersed with clouds of desires. And we are breathing in the same air, floating bodies, we're never steady. When the pigmented night sky takes the place of our lilac musing. When the golden rays of the sun, become the silver of the moonlight, we have only started to exist. Just like the sky, the space, we are ever lasting. You rouse me from my dreams, with a touch so placid. It's like you're a bird, and your fingers are your feathers. A beautiful spring awakening; A flower in bloom. Each of my scarlet petals, are velvet to the touch, and I hope you know that they blossom just for you. Un cadeau de moi à toi. A gift from me to you. This is how you make me want to live.

I have scribbled your name all over my love letters. The ink soaked paper holds my thoughts from the savagery of the night, which have now become my favoured hours. With crimson claws soaked into my flesh, you are carved into my bones. A part of me, one I cannot do without. I haven't loved any, as I love you. I love you candidly, I love you purely, I love you with all of me. My heart that was once heavy on agony, suddenly has a purpose. All the loose threads, fraying away the fabric, they have started to make sense. You give me a reason. You are my reason. And this, is how you make me fall for you. Day and day, again.

Yours, until the end of time.