Teleprem & Stars, App Prem. (CODE CREST)

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ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ (Bespoken Desire: October 1st.) / Our deep affection for one another remains burning brightly, releasing moments that shall never be forgotten and blossoming into the sweetest poem. / Among a few sentences successfully penned, I grin as the birds’ chirps become more musical and upbeat. I notice everything connected to you once more. I pledge allegiance to you alone, forever. ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ Beneath the moonlight that fills every square inch of existence. / I sense the harmonious melody of your warmth enveloping me. And I stare into your sweet grin during this winter that embodies the faithfulness of love. / Even now, the journal on my thighs seems to depict a vast emptiness. / In all honesty, my eyes are on you, observing every detail of yours. I embrace the stunning phrases and pour them over the blank page as your enthralling eyes draw me farther into the abyss of love. I promise that nothing but love and compassion will be offered in this matter. 

To: My Penman, Böhm / (Where’d you go?) Avowed love-paper, days of yore waltz.

ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ (When the moon welcomes the night, they research the depths of their emotions, sharing private affairs and fears beneath a canopy of stars.) Apiece moment together feels like a brushtail on a canvas, flourishing and tender. They bespeak of love not as a mere feeling, but as a terrible devotion / an avowal to stand together against the ongoings of life, despite how blustery they have. But passion comes with vulnerability. They memorize that love can be both a sanctum and a field of conflict. Arguments exude like summer storms, severe and fleeting, leaving a trail of misery and confusion. But through each encounter, they found strength in their wounds, understanding that loving profoundly meant risking blood. “Until we bleed,” they vowed one night, hands clasped tightly in the faint light of eventide / It was a statement of their devotion, an acceptance that heart’s desire demands everything / their hearts, their souls, and sometimes, their very selves. ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ AN ACHE OF LETTERS, SALÍNAS. The paper on my lap still appears to show a dense void. (July, 19th.) In the heart of an unyielding town, where dreams often glimmer like dying stars, two souls found one another amidst the chaos. They dance in the boulevards, laughter echoing off the brick walls, weaving their own narrative against the backdrop of a world that often feels indifferent. / The tingles of melancholy that wash over every strand of hair were like flashes of painful memory. / Among every whisper and truth we plead, bound by an absolute promise that is ultimately destroyed by a cloudy cannonade. Through leisurely tangled dreams and fragile seams, they chase the echoes of themes carried by the strong winds toward agony. ㅤㅤ         ㅤㅤ