They met here. The first time, that was, when a tree grew towards the sky and petals of white danced in the wind. Running late for class, a chance meeting, but that was all it took to find something neither knew of before.
A year flew by in secrecy, in the hushed midnight calls, the meetup of "friends" in a coffee shop, kisses stolen in a moment when the world couldn't see. The world would have called it wrong, sinful, disgusting to see the two in love. Not that it mattered at the time. They were in love, a love hard to find and harder to keep.
Gifts were exchanged in courtship, given under the guise of friendship. New books, filled with recipies to try from movies, a coffee cup for one and a tea cup for the other - how quaint of a difference between two so alike - and many others. A notebook to the writer and a drawing pad to the artist, to breathe stories into life and words into color. Breathtaking beauty to be found in each as they were clutched to chests with hearts beating out of them.
Secrets cannot be kept forever, especially not from others you love. They started small, notes passed to friends, hushed conversations in quiet corners of loud rooms, understandings and acceptance reached, but the writer reached too far. Family might claim love, but oh how they despise that love which they cannot comprehend. Love, such a thing to be cherished, and yet punished by those who have raised you if you reach for one they do not approve of - and indeed, they did not approve. Phone calls unanswered, final words not spoken, and all that was left was a eloquent note that was published by the news - never was it sent to the artist which it was meant to reach.
Doodles of dreams turned to drawings of nightmares, filling page after page in horror, grief, and rage, until not a space was left without the brutal stroke of a pen dripping with bloodlust. And here it was left, the place it began, the place where it was ended, the tree where beauty had been caught, cut to a decaying husk as their forbidden love had been. All too soon, all too soon. The book complete, the story over, all because love had found its way to bring together to souls so alike with a single crime, as though their minds were the same, so too were their bodies. And soon they would be reunited.
annaxmalina
kianamaiart
stormborns
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
discoholicmusic
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