Drabble, 6/18

I stand before you, a clean slate, a blank canvas, waiting for your brush strokes to paint me a masterpiece in your image. I know that I will be your finest piece, your star . You will make me into such beauty that no eyes would be able to look upon me without tearing up.

Drabble, 6/18

He hurt. He hurt more than he'd ever hurt before, more than all the broke bones he'd acquired in his life. When people talked about heart break, he never understood they spoke of a physical pain. his chest ached and his lungs burned, like the very air they need was poisonous. Every breath he drew made it worse and worse until he prayed he could survive without it.

Drabble 6/18

But you are the smoke I try to capture, the tiger I try to tame. I know it will never be, but I must never stop trying, for fear you will become naught. You will turn out to be some figment my mind created to fill in the blankness you would leave behind.