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I used to think that your eyes were poetry: calm, deep blue, like a gentle summer sky. you made me believe I was special to you. you held my hand, and comforted me when I cried, and for the first time in my life I felt like I was(more)
on this side of the mirror there are things that dearly remind me of you. the stars in the heavens, the scent of forest and cedar woodchips, the rumble of passing trains, the German flag; even in my dreams, where I once imagined I could forget you, you linger(more)

gravity--the pull of knowledge, the capacity for increasing personal abilities. Edward was once drawn to the dark fog, the shadows on the cave wall, determined to discover all the secrets of the universe because he could; gravity violently tore his wings from his shoulders and cast him back t(more)
he smelled like October the third.
rain dipping down green hills on a cold autumn night, mud and grit squelching beneath his boots. the smell of ozone and dirt,  overflowing river and of damp cornstalks, of sun-warmed pavement cooled by night and dark and wet.
he smelled like electricity. t(more)
A written letter was all that Alfons felt Edward deserved, in the aftermath. It was curt, cold, absent of the warmth Alfons seemed to exude. Bitter, like salty ocean air; angry, like the twist of a maelstrom.
"I was not a troubled person before I met you." "I a(more)
"Please talk to me," Edward begged at a closed door, tears dripping down his too-pale skin; but Alfons was punishing him with his silence. Months ago, the German boy with the light blond hair and the cold blue eyes took his key, then locked the front door without an(more)