Pink Balloon

And now this brown leather couch has become the symbol for everything I've grown to miss over the last week.

The fact that you're away and how much I miss the way we sat here and laughed and maybe nearly cried even though neither of us would be brave enough to keep eye contact long enough to notice. How I took comfort in your silence because you didn't want to burden me with your troublesome thoughts. How we spoke of each other only in profanities but we both know we mean the world to each other. How I've never felt closer to someone by just sitting in front of the television with a cup of hot chocolate. I love you like a sister and you've become one of my favourite souls to encounter, like a thousand year-old willow who you could get wrapped up in and lost between the different threads of vulnerable, green plaits. I just want you to come home so I don't have to look for you in traces of cigarette ash left in the bottom of our teacups or salt left in the fridge because your life is about playing tricks on yourself. We could play tricks with a magical Moose and rule the kingdoms in our heads because I'm going to be here through it all even though the fridge is screaming at you for letting all its coolness out and I'm screaming at you for never being on time and you're screaming at yourself because you never manage to get your hair quite the way you want it (even though you'll still always be the prettiest girl in the room). So now I sit on this couch and I have the comfort of this blanket, but I miss your pacing around the kitchen and your smoke cuddling up to our bedtime cup of tea.

I'd follow your advice even if it led me to the scariest corners of my frivolous soul and I'd share my shade with you even if part of me got burned. I'd leave the party to put you in bed after the devil offered you candy. And I'd never judge you, not a single moment, not ever.

I love you, faglet.
Come home soon<3