• chudley_cannons 178w

    beau soir - claude debussy

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    letters that might have reached her (or not)

    [february 24]

    there is a gentle breeze on the other side of the window; the sky is a vivid blue, unlike anything I have ever seen; I wish I could write the way I saw.

    [september 9]

    the rain hammering down tonight is enough to drown out my words. maybe it's better that way.

    [may 17]

    there is a tear in my heart and I pull at the seams so it bleeds a little more. my bones have watered down to nothing and my ears hear an empty static. I wish you could see me right now.

    [december 20]

    perhaps on the days that my head doesn't seem like my own, I like to write more than ever. to put to words something that might leave a more tangible proof of my existence than mere flesh can.

    [august 5]

    today I remembered the first time I heard the treble of a tchaikovsky symphony; how I called you up and cried - told you how I had fallen in love. I wish I could talk to you again.

    [january 11]

    havoc is a novella written in my script, one I have wrung from the past and left to posterity. havoc is my smile trembling in the morning light - I don't know if you'll believe me, but I'm happy today.

    - Abha