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Glaceon Fashion 3rd Edition
The Greggening (Game Grumps CalendAPRIL)
Image Source
— Ig.agustd reel
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sometimes the lines that separate the areas of love become so blurred at the point of hurt. the room is blue and i am sinking so deep that i cannot see the sky.
and in this, i understand why betty wept. i feel the cardigan, the bite of the cold outside the door, and the switch for the porch light. i feel the entirety of the room and the weight of the hollow. the proof of your existence i never consider stains, the dip in my chest at the echo of every memory. and every word is remembered. every version of you at every season. autumn, returning.
some days augustine spoke for me, but lately it’s been betty who i’ve understood. i recognize how it aches now. i feel the disconnect and recognize it as a constant that’s been hidden in plain sight so long that it mimics the trinkets of my home now. it posed beside all i’ve framed and stayed unannounced until it was realized. the echo of old words, january’s rain, spring’s soft breaths under the sheets. morsels of a perceived love that kept my mouth too full for questions.
there was anger but as an ode to my always, there is no hate. red subsides, and like betty, i turn on the porch lights and see that the after of red is just a dim orange. it is not noble to stand here, and i don’t consider myself brave for welcoming the bite of the cold.
so i suppose the haunted poets are right. between us, i will always be the writer while you will always be my words. one day, the love i write will read like an old memory. a faded yellow, the sepia of what i let go. but right now i am not brave. it is cold but it is familiar. i am neither love’s courage nor cowardice. i just love you. so the door is unlocked even if you see it closed, and the porch lights are on.
some of my favourite parts in @hianalis fics
devil’s night, ch. his
nocturne, ch. reason
human out of luck, ch. picture frames
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