to : rosyln luna grey
cupboard under the stairs
#4 privet drive
little whinging, surrey
from : the heart
superior to the liver,
between the lungs
my dearest rosy,
let's not sugar-coat this, let's get straight to the heart of it:
i am sick of this. i love you but i'm tired. i've been sitting in this cold cage of ribs for 18 years now & i'm starting to lose my voice.
so please,
i'm trying to speak your language, but i can't quite seem to get the conjugations right or maybe you're just not listening. but just like you, i know what it's like to be beaten.
please hear me, i know you.
i see the secrets behind your perfect childhood and i see you even after you & the sun have gone to bed.
rosy, you're my reason, & i'm your reason:
for purpose.
so please, just hear me.
with all of my,
heart.
(art by the beautiful c. jade)