Aries —
you remind me so much of my mother. it’s too late for me to free her, but not too late to free you. I’ll take good care of you; keep the flames your spirit is made of alive, fan them high, high, higher. you’re worth so much more than other people measure, worth so much more than you’re willing to sell yourself for. I’ll show you your colors seen through my eyes, if you’ll let me.
Taurus —
you’re going to break my heart, and I’m going to let you. I wish I could find it in me to regret it, to stop it all before it happens, but by god, I cannot. you’re so far from perfect it’s ridiculous, and somehow all these flaws make you all the more radiant; you burn bright, white-hot and kind like springtime sun, and I’ll sing hallelujah when you’ll char me down to dust and ashes.
Gemini —
I wish you’d spend less time turning yourself into what the world wants to see. you aren’t a canvas for others to draw stickmen onto; you’re so much more, deep down where you haven’t let anyone mar you. I guess I just wonder what made you hate yourself so much you forgot you’ve got the hanging gardens swinging from your lungs with every breath you take.
Cancer —
i’m sorry I can’t keep the promise I made you. we won’t get to grow old together, won’t get to raise our children across the hall from eachother, won’t get to hold hands all the way into our old age. I’ll come have coffee on your balcony, though, if you’ll have me; and I hope that all the wrinkles on your face will be from laughing. I hope life will be as kind to you as you were to me.
Leo —
I wish your mother had taught you how to love. maybe then neither of us would have such shaky, clumsy hands; maybe you’d be able to read my eyes, the vivid space between my words. a world thrives there, a kingdom of ash and ruin and so much life, a kingdom built on my heart. I wish so badly you’d see it; but you’re blind to all of it, so blind, and it’s killing me inside.
Virgo —
maybe it’s unfair of me to say this, but you were the only good thing in my life; still are. you were so beautiful, so kind. the whole of Eden was lodged between your lungs, and I had found my solace, there, in the soil underneath your ribs. you never kissed me like the world was ending; you always kissed me like we were deathless, infinite, and that was your only lie. you became the earth’s bride, and it hurt so much, so much, to be the one who lead you to the altar. I miss you.
Libra —
surprisingly, I don’t hate you. maybe I would’ve, if we were both entirely different people; you fucked up my entire life, but I don’t hate you, no. you just disgust me, so much my whole body shakes with it and I want to vomit my heart and brains out. and yet, I find myself pitying you – you’re nothing but a small man who didn’t know what to do with his mouth and hands, who barely had enough room for himself inside his heart. don’t ever say my name again, and maybe I’ll forgive you, if only just a little, for what you’ve done to me.
Scorpio —
you and I are so alike, it’s frightening. please be at ease, if you were ever concerned; I will not repeat your mistakes. I will not let myself be walked all over, and I will put myself first. you drowned out the world and sunk yourself in the process, found salvation at the bottom of the bottle. I will save myself by shattering the glass, not choking on it.
Sagittarius —
I’m sorry I couldn’t love you the way you wanted me to. I’m sorry I will never be able to. I’m sorry you have to take what you can, all because that’s the best I’m able to offer. I’m sorry I’m your whole world, because I’m dead on my feet and all I carry around are hopes like stars in the sky and milennia’s worth of hurt – both distant, both bad for your heart. I’m sorry, so sorry, for having made a graveyard out of you when I have no desire to bury myself in it.
Capricorn —
they’ve lied to you. it doesn’t get better, no matter how much you want it to or try to make it so. you are a battlefield, always will be, and as time goes on, the only thing that will change is the amount of blood on your hands and wounds carving you hollow, piece by piece, until you’ll barely be able to tell who’s looking back at you from behind the cracks in the mirror. hope is your only salvation, but we both know what hope is: placebo for the dying.
Aquarius —
you already have a vague idea of just how much you mean to me; you’ll never know the full extent of it, though, because not even I can quite tell the depths of the feeling. it’s alright; that’s not what we’re talking about today. today we’re talking about the life coiling in your belly, climbing up your esophagus, wrapping itself around your lungs. today we’re talking about what you are: a birther, a caregiver, a healer. please always remembers what your hands and mouth are meant for, as clumsy as they may often prove to be.
Pisces —
congratulations, idiot. you’re the living proof that even I can be wrong sometimes, and god, just how horribly wrong. you were such a good, kind boy when we first met – when the hell did you turn into this? I wasn’t even gone, and yet you still managed to turn yourself into almost everything I stand against before I’d even blinked. if there’s even one piece of who you used to be left roaming inside, if you care about me even just a little, then you’ll snap out of it, because I cannot bear watching you become a monster. this isn’t who you are. you are a free spirit, a kind spirit; a considerate person, a caring person, a bleeding heart. please, please snap out of it.
