jinyoung;

waking up every morning to the ocean breeze, to the smell of salt, the sting going to your eyes. 

living on the edge of land, where death is right around the corner.

i wake up every morning at 4am, expecting something...

but nothing ever happens. 

at 5am i'm up, and it's still dark, but i go for walks. 

then one day, there's a rose. 

a rose from the garden i see when i'm on the roof of my home in front of the cliff

the cliff i think of jumping off of... one day. 

the rose is light pink. 

a note tied to it as well. 

i leave it at the doorstep, and go for my walk. 

the crisp night air caressing my pale skin,

dying on the inside, and living on the out. 

the street lights giving a warm haunting glow on the side walk, as i watch workers pass by, even baristas pass by me to the starbucks that's a few blocks down. 

my breathing feels uneven the moment i see someone behind me,

with a blade in their hand. 

my head lowering to the floor, watching as i slow down my pace, and stand aside. 

as he slowly walks pass me, blade clutched tightly. 

i turn back, going to the salty breeze i know, that i call,

my home.