Added by 2 members
Huxley:
I hated the rain.
It circled around death. Or was it death that circled me when it rained?
I hated the rain. Then I hated love.
Until I found her.
She is my rain.
But I let her slip right between my fingers. And I won’t stop until I find my rain and she is pouring over me once again.
Though, our story doesn’t begin at her wake from death.
It begins at mine.
Esme:
I don’t understand.
Why don’t I understand?
I can see the reflection in the mirror. Only, I can’t be certain as to who is looking back at me.
I’m told who she is, but I don’t see her.
I only see eyes—empty eyes.
And another pair behind me.
Always behind me.
I’m left with only one question, who am… was I?
I hated the rain.
It circled around death. Or was it death that circled me when it rained?
I hated the rain. Then I hated love.
Until I found her.
She is my rain.
But I let her slip right between my fingers. And I won’t stop until I find my rain and she is pouring over me once again.
Though, our story doesn’t begin at her wake from death.
It begins at mine.
Esme:
I don’t understand.
Why don’t I understand?
I can see the reflection in the mirror. Only, I can’t be certain as to who is looking back at me.
I’m told who she is, but I don’t see her.
I only see eyes—empty eyes.
And another pair behind me.
Always behind me.
I’m left with only one question, who am… was I?
Visitors also looked at these books