Bewitching Elegance Essay

When dusk’s grey sky lit up your pale face with traces of moonlight, dullness became enlightenment.

Your thoughts have been trapped in the most hidden archives, but I discovered them.

You are not as lost as you want yourself to be.

Your map is not so hard to read, no matter how hard you tried to tatter it in your self navigation.

Maybe if you spent less time hoping to be unnoticed, fading away wouldn’t be such a desperation.

It’s like looking at a person years after the first time you said you loved them, and wondering if they are anything like they were before.

Skin renews itself every 28 days, and your fingertips haven’t traced across mine in 4 years.

I wonder if your lips would still feel the same, and I wonder if my hand would still fit into yours like it used to.

I wonder if your hair would still smell like autumn wind, and I wonder if your freckles would still line up the same way they did when I traced the melanin constellations on your wrist.

It’s been longer than 28 days, so I suppose my skin is no longer brushed upon your pigmented canvas.