𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦

                ╰┈➤ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: language + mentions of alcohol, 

          attempted suicide, drugs, allusions to child abuse, allusions to

              toxic relationships, death, allusions to attempted murder

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 hated lemons. Lemons meringue pie, lemon drops, limoncello, lemonade. All of it, she despised them. She never understood why anyone would purposely consume edible acid. It was sour, it was tangy, it was slightly bitter. It was unenjoyable and she would never purposely tinge her tastebuds.

Gideon believed her hatred for lemons wasn't rooted in taste, but instead in their mother. Blessing Sofoluwe wasn't fit to be a mother. No one ever believed that she should have been a mother to Olumide let alone to two other children.

Blessing was mentally ill. Like not "I dyed my hair red and got an impulsive piercing," mentally ill, rather "try to jump off the top of your apartment building with your four year old daughter in your hands" mentally ill. But God was she beautiful, and to Adeyemi Sofoluwe that was all that mattered. He could easily overlook her homicidal tendencies when she looked so good doing it.

Hugs with her mother often ended with her desperately gasping for air, clawing at the arms around her neck. The last thing she would remember every-time she passed out was the faint scent of molly and lemon infused vodka.

So, her hate for lemons may have resulted from her mother's multiple murder attempts. Whatever. Didn't change the fact that lemons were still revolting.

It confused her, why were humans so desperate to hurt themselves that they would purposely eat food that tears their tastebuds enough? She supposed it was the same way she continuously hurt herself by letting Miles hold her, charm her, call her sweet names.

Because deep down inside, we liked the brief feeling of being in pain, it was a rush. The sourness was something we enjoyed because it hurt but only for a second.

And Miles was something she continued to return to, even if she knew it would hurt her in the end.

"Genie you don't have to clean our dorm every-time you're here." Miles leaned back in his desk chair, watching the girl, his eyes full of pure amusement.

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't so damn messy." Genie spat, folding Ganke's sweater. "I mean seriously, what would your mother think."

"Well my room is this messy at home," Miles defended, turning back to his sketchbook. Genesis placed the sweater delicately into the drawer. "I miss seeing your art Miles." She mumbled, watching his pencil glide gracefully across the page.

Miles turned to face her, staring at her as she pouted, her almond eyes widening in a desperate attempt to give him puppy dog eyes.

He groaned, turning in his chair, he waved her over. Giddily, she skipped over to him.

He flipped open the book handing it to her, "Knock yourself out princess." She grinned, flipping through the pages.

Miles was her soulmate. He had to be, poet and artists was the most gorgeous cliche in the book.

And if she was considered a wonderful poet, Miles had to be the world's most marvelous artist. "Miles these are, for lack of a better word, stunning." She looked up at him, stars in her eyes. "You're so talented." Miles chuckled, "You've been telling me for years Genie."

"And I'll keep telling you until you accept the compliment." She smirked, she continued flipping through the pages, gently observing the artwork in front of her.

Her gaze landed on a particular page, she smiled.

Miles had drawn her a countless number of times back in middle school. But this time was different. This time with every line she observed, her heart began to melt, little by little.

"Miles this is- this is gorgeous." He smiled sheepishly, "Might have something to do with the muse."

It was clear why this was hard for her, why she continued to return time and time again. Her hopes would rise very high, only to be drop again.

And once again, Gen felt her heart drop to her feet as she flipped the page.

Sketches of a blonde girl, half shaven head, adorned in some sort of bodysuit littered the page, and as she continuously flipped through the pages her face covered most of them.

"Hey Miles," she attempted to mask her distress with a teasing tone. "Who's this?" She held up the page for him.

Miles jumped out of his chair, snatching the book out of her hands. "No one," "Doesn't seem like no one." "Gennieee." "Millllleees."

She placed her hand on her hips, "I'm your best friend, you're supposed to be able to tell me anything." Miles sighed, "Her name is Gwanda, Gwen I guess. And this may sound far fetched-" "More far fetched than being bit by a radioactive spider and gaining super powers." She quirked an eyebrow.

Miles nodded, "Fair point. She's from another dimension, she got sucked into our dimension last year when I got bit." He put his hands in his pocket, kicking his foot out, his eyes trained on the floor.

"And I miss her, it's like she got me." Genesis placed a hand over her heart. "So cute." She cooed. "Didn't help she was really pretty."

She felt like vomiting, "You know that's why I want to study quantum physics. See if I can find a way to get back to her." A large fake smile painted her face, she nodded slowly. "So you like her?" Miles flushed. "Yeah I think I do."

"That's so cute." The words poured out, the bitterness stinging her tongue like lemon juice.

𝐒𝐇𝐄 was stupid really. Believing her feelings would be returned? How naive. The girl who's face littered her love's sketchbook was gorgeous, Gen hadn't even met her and she could already tell how cool she was.

Gen rested her head on her desk, gazing out her window. Neon red light flooded her face as the time on her alarm clock flashed 3:27 am.

She groaned, once again, Melody was sound asleep, fallen into the arms of Morpheus, and once again her only companion was the moon.

Genesis believed she and the moon shared a soul. Being the only beings to witness the glorious night sky as it blanketed New York. And if it weren't for light pollution, she would see the stars.

Genie loved stars. They were luminous and ethereal, so close yet so far away. Just like Miles.

She lifted her head slowly, her bonnet shifting slightly over her wooly hair. Brushing her thumb over the soft gold engraving of her leather black poetry book.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒,

How do you get over someone who was never yours? Who do you blame when you've broken your own heart? Genuine question.

I think I'm tired, of getting hurt for loving people. But it feels so good to be loved. I would continuously let my mother hold me knowing it would end with her hands around my neck, begging to take my last breath from me.

I will continuously go back to you knowing in the end it will be my demise. And I hate you for it. Fuck you Miles.

You and your stupid pretty smile, and your ridiculously cute laugh, and your annoyingly pretty eyes, and your dumb passion.

Fuck you and the way all my problems disappear whenever I'm with you. The way you hold me in your arms, running your hands through my hair, allowing my tears to stain the soft cashmere of your sweater. The way you notice little things about me.

I change my hair? You notice. I did my nails? You noticed. New lipgloss? You notice.

From on outside view, one would think we both loved each other. But we both know better.

I suppose in a way it's my fault, you don't know how I feel. How are you meant to know my heart aches every time I look at you, a constant reminder of my unrequited love.

But I could shout my love for you from the top of the Empire State Building, allowing all of New York to know how much I adore you.

It won't matter how loud you love, if the other person isn't listening.

It's not your fault you love her. I don't even blame you darling she's gorgeous. I can't even hâte you for liking her.

It's not your fault that you don't love me. It's my fault because I fell in love with you.

I could wait. Perhaps, given time, you'll realize I was here, waiting for you all this time. But it's like waiting for snow in July, waiting for you to love me. And I will wait. Time will rot at my bones and I will stand there, waiting for you to love me.

Perhaps I'm dramatic, perhaps this is all a phase, after all I'm only sixteen, I have the rest of my life to fall in love. But I'm a teenage girl. And girlhood rots at my teeth, a sickness so sweet it aches. Unrequited love eats away at my soul, rendering me helpless.

Forever and always,

G.S

LOVE SPEAKS!

My letters and poems are inspired from existing media/quotes, I'm not that creative. Feel free to vote and comment I love when y'all do. I do read all the comments on all my books. There's a lot of warnings and then most of them are only mentioned briefly, it'll be touched on later. If you read on the website the header is probably off center. Not proofread.