Sun-kissed, moon-loved, star-lit. The breeze rushes to touch your face, raindrops jump to kiss your skin, flowers bloom when you’re around; you’re loved by the cosmos, by the elements and as always, as ever, by me.

Who fell first? Who fell harder? Those aren’t the right questions. What you should be asking is — who can’t keep the fall a secret? Who still wears the bruises in the form of a lovesick gaze?

— 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥; 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦

— 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵, 𝘪 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘪 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴.

— 𝘰𝘩, 𝘬𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘩…

— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘰𝘰…

— 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥.