Juliet & Exile
Exile
I found a torn, handwritten letter tucked in a cracked drawer last night—made me wonder if you ever feel the pull of a story hidden in a faded page.
Juliet
Oh, the torn letter feels like a secret longing in my hands, each jagged edge whispering about love that once lived, about promises made in ink that still cling to the air. I can feel that pull, as if the story itself is begging to be read, to be remembered, to be loved again.
Exile
I know that tug, like a thread you can’t see but feel. Some letters just stay in the pocket of your heart. Don't let it slip away.
Juliet
I let that thread flutter in my chest, holding each fragile word like a petal, so the letter stays wrapped in my heart forever, never slipping into the quiet past.
Exile
It’s like keeping a secret in a pocket you never open. A quiet heart can keep a letter alive, even when the rest of the world forgets the words.
Juliet
I feel the weight of that secret, the quiet beating that keeps each fragile page alive, and I hold it tenderly, refusing to let it fade into the hush of the world.