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And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that

he was the only one for me.

We both knew it, right away.

And as the years went on, things got more difficult

we were faced with more challenges.

I begged him to stay. Try to remember what

we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic,

electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in

every woman's head turned, everyone stood up

to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of

a man who couldn't contain himself.

I always got the sense that he became torn

between being a good person and

missing out on all of the opportunities that life could

offer a man as magnificent as him.

And in that way I understood him

and I loved him.

I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.

And I still love him.

I love him.

My Darling...

I couldn’t sleep one night, I felt agitated, angry and alone. Everyone around me was resting peacefully and I was tossing and turning. He was in my head for some reason, not because I felt anything or had any attachment to him but because I think I once did and never expressed it. It needed to come out. Twenty minutes later I had written down my stream of thoughts. Written down what I thought, what I felt. I don’t think I have thought of you again since I wrote these words down. 

Goodnight 

xx

Everyone warned me but I knew I loved you so. In the beginning it was so honest and true how could I say no?

Midnight wanderings of strangers, runs in the downpour of the storm. A kiss goodbye and a kiss hello. Oh my darling I loved you so. You left sunflowers at my door, pancakes on my table and fleet foxes in my ears. Oh how I loved you so. 

But eventually the walls came up, I pushed you away, put on a face of complete serenity to keep you at bay. Inside I was dark and in turmoil; an intricacy of beautiful, dangerous lines. I was scared that if you saw what encompassed me you would leave me behind. In the end you walked, slowly, but surely, not from the dark turmoil but from the fact that I tried so hard to keep it at bay. 

I would pull you close when I couldn't hide anymore and push you away again when all was settled and quiet inside. You yourself became a twisted artwork darker than I. I didn't even know who you were anymore. My finger painting of freedom - or my Davinci, so coded, intricate and closed. I hoped you were the finger painting I loved so much. I tried to love the other you, I even said I did, but in my hearts of hearts I knew it was untrue. But darling please know that I really did love you. 

They told me to leave. Never gave reasons why, just said he is no good for you, I now understand why. Im not sure why I didn't listen, didn't leave...all I do know is that sufjan is my soul and you my darling were the beat to my rhythm. I never even knew you my davinci, my finger painting, my darling. But oh I loved you so.

Charlotte's Web

Her name is Charlotte…

I picture you as this intricate web that I will never see, nor do I think I want to. With the rise of the sun I imagine you glistening in the morning light, the silver threads dusted with morning dew. He gazes up at this masterpiece as he once gazed upon me. A look of wonderment, adoration and love; I don’t know what hurts more the fact that I know what you will have or that I know now what I will not have again.

I was the autumn leaf that fell too far when the seasons changed. I was there for a while, a small piece of beauty in a bigger picture, but that picture like many things had to change seasons. Maybe if I had held on a little tighter I could have made it through the winter, made it through so that I could bloom again in the spring. Maybe you could have waited or I could have been stronger. Maybe I could have done a lot of things but I am left with what is and what has been.

I felt the summer sun during the hottest of days; the bloom of flowers in the coming of spring and the ever-changing colours of life in autumn, but the time was forever changing. I couldn’t hold on any longer and as this once beautiful leaf fell from the tree it was swept up into a gust of wind. From above I can see now that you are content gazing at her silver threaded art, so I let the wind take me. As I move I can still hear the haunting whisper of her name reverberating through my mind. Her name is Charlotte, you say.

Photography by Jack Grayson, click here for more images.