i. why you always fed the crows ii. why you checked the forecast iii. why you called it hometown anarchy iv. why you followed your own footprints v. why you stayed indoors on saturdays vi. why you walked along flooded roads vii. why you never needed to say goodbye
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
if i were icarus, i would have never flown at all.
so maybe that’s why you played the part.
the door is locked and the music is loud, ghost stories playing on the bluetooth speaker (because 2014’s as good as it gets for us). the phantom tells you the wind is just right. your wings are not made of seagull feathers and wax, but strung together by thin hopes and patched up with black plumage. maybe you can fly far enough to escape this endless autumn, if the ghosts you sold yourself to ever let you.
you said you loved flying, but i wonder if you really meant falling with a spectral hand there to drag you down.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
sometimes, you meet a ghost before you know what they are. i know i met one before you knew it, either: you said there was rain on your window again and the storm was knocking on the glass. i told you not to let it in, but i don’t think you listened.
the wind told you it was the friendly kind of ghost. you trusted it to catch you and carry you far away, and it did, just not in the way you expected. i knew it wasn’t going to love you back, no matter how much you gave to it. the storm will lie on every promise it makes.
i warned you of it far too late when it started to rip the leaves off the trees and threatened to tear you away from me too. you’ll never be as real as me again, so how could you see right through me?
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
harvest moon nights on the bike lane: we are the last hearts beating in a ghost town, the only ones left to breathe in others’ faded dreams. the posters by the train station tell us the end of our story. someone else was here to warn us of it, ages ago, but the paper was shredded from oblivion’s pull.
our childhood was 1st wave and rainy novembers until we strayed here, became the wanderers that you only get to see on the silver screen, back turned, walking down alleyways in the rain. we’d turned into the spray-painted writing on those abandoned, cracked wall corners that only means something to the one who made it. until it washes away, i am a lonely graffiti heart left behind on the streets leading to breaking.
tonight, the world has already ended. sometimes the world means nothing to me anyway (even if somehow you still mean the world to me, and i don't know how to reconcile that).
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
we have been on enough evergreen drives to know when the forest won't let go of us. there are no fallen leaves here, you said, this land will outlive us and our ghosts. and i hope it does because i don't want you to be the lonely haunter of silent woods forevermore— you are already a ghost story, and i am the teller. the forest might hold on to you, but so will i and i don't plan on letting go first.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
every moment with you is a promise of impermanence. i wouldn't believe it if the rainstorms with you lasted forever because not even this sky of ours is eternal. the leaves had their time, and we had ours, spending it on a couch with our eyes on turbulent clouds.
by all means, let's feed the lies we still believe in. let's say we have all the time in the world— you go pull the curtains, and i'll close the doors. when we're finally alone (we're not) we'll sit on the floor, talking about when we'll dare to go outside next. we'll pretend the ghost isn't a voice in the conversation.
this world is not ready for you yet, but neither am i ready for you to be gone. the wind isn't ready, either. please don't listen to it.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
and now, the sounds of desperate cars in traffic have brought us back to our senses. the rain promises to turn them all to rust and for once, i believe it will. until then, you will be my lifeboat, my ghost ship before the waters are still again.
the falling drops leave a message in the puddles like rippling inkstains on pavement. it’s for you, and it means the storm is almost over.
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
the rain finally stops this weekend. the puddles have turned into lakes and bargaining is at last acceptance. we have to stop holding hands— if you are to jump into the deep end, i can't have you drag me down with you.
but i will see you in the leaves that lived and the birds that made it back home. i'll know where to find you in the crocus beds and in the long sunsets up north. and when it rains again this november, i'll know the ghost is not gone forever: this time, i will welcome it.
(today is not the last time i get to say hello.)
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
Gender:
Points: 4150
Reviews: 135