You are
the vibrant fresco
buried deep
in the pastel recesses
of my mind,
which I am striving
to resurrect
with the slow burn
of a simmering memory.

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Of all the books,
She's my favourite,
'cause I swear-
None keeps me hooked like this,
None I try this hard to interpret.

-

The sun and the moon,
Two star-crossed lovers,
To be one with each other...

-

Been a while, since July, Wednesday is my new favourite•
/captioned/

-

You were like the perfect novel for me, because I had always liked reading slowburn.

-

And it's the slow burn situation of a relationship, when the one looks at another like they have constellations in thier eyes and diamonds rooted into thier face. The look of admiration shared and the laughter of something stupid calls out in the worst moments possible. The slow burn, the awkward pining which everyone sees but them, the staring into thier very being when the other is busy being melancholic beside the window sill and maybe sometimes joining them too. Sometimes watching the rain fall together talking about nothing and everything or smiling every now and then to each other or away from them. The yearning experienced, known by no one except them and the wish of getting them alone, but leaving at once or distancing when they genuinely get alone. And waiting and expecting patiently for them to strike a move and maybe share a word or two or laugh and oh wow just a moment of togetherness? And those depressing moments where they would ask for tips to forget each other as they would think even by their ages years from now, they would hold onto each other's hands even 'till the time their hair turns grey.
And all of these words could just be conveyed by one looked shared.

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