#oclydeplania

( -- * there is loss in his eyes, the sight of a person journeying and this is a sense she's had of him since they met in the most normal of ways, the most abnormal of people.  he is the tallest tower, wavering; moving like howl's castle through the prettiest of fields and still falling apart at the seams.  she is the magic that keeps him together, late at nights when he calls and during the day when he looks tortured by the people that keep him ' company'.  " that's the beauty of it, clyde.  sometimes, you just don't know." ( -- * she pauses, reflects, thinks about him.  there is heaviness in her heart, and it pulls down her lips ever so slightly. ) 

(　× his eyes close and hazy visions of a night fueled by alcohol, driven by desire crowd his mind -- he recognizes, he remembers, he knows.  a soft sigh escapes him; it seems that now they're magnetized, attracted, pulled together by a single night.  he can't say that he's ashamed, but this is something that isn't temporary.  they were meant to be something temporary. his eyes open.  his face doesn't change [ not much, unless you're looking -- hard enough to see the twitch of a smile that pulls at his lips ] .  there's an answer that swims in his mind like the body of a fish, and he is the fisherman attempting to catch it.  he never does.

( -- * her phone rings and it's far too late for it to be anyone but him.  he, who whispers his worries into her ear, a troubled mind not put to rest by the beauty of the night.  he, who lifts her up to see the world from his eyes.  the moon shines in through her window, and the ringing of the phone is shrill in her ears [ it sounds like crying, and she wonders how he feels -- ] .  he is a tower, she is the support.  they together are a structure. ) " clyde .. ?" ( -- * her voice is soft and whispering, she waits and he spills his words like water from a glass.  she waits.  he falls silent.  there is a steady beating in her chest, and it feels a little more like pain. ) " .... " ( -- * he thinks she underestimates him, his adoring, his caring.  she licks her lips, she is the chastised child. ) 

My muse died while your muse was away. Send me a ‘✉’ for a letter my muse had left for yours before they passed away.

Ah, Clyde. You know, I was writing this and I realized how sad this really is. I realized how much I hate goodbyes. But I'd feel worse if I left you without, at least, a written goodbye.

So yes, if you're reading this right now, I'm not around anymore. I'm in a place that remains unknown while we're alive. Let's be honest    I'm probably in hell. But first let me take a selfie, I decided to write you this.

Thank you. We had some great moment, didn't we? Drinking a lot, arguing a lot, teasing each other a lot. Laughing a lot. Or not, because you weren't always in a good mood. However, I must admit I had a great time with you. I wish we could have spent more time together, because I enjoyed your company much.

You, take care. Find another buddy to drink with and get that job as a detective    you can't die without saying 'I'm detective Park. Clyde Park". Like, really. Don't miss such opportunity! Also, have a lot of fun and enjoy every single day of your life (and don't forget your responsibilities!). God, I sound like a mother.

Goodbye, Clyde. Thank you.

                                    With love,

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