Paper Voicemails || Calum Hood

In which he would write her paper voicemails, but to never sent them.


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6. letter 05

Dear Summer, 

I can remember crying over you the night you told me you wanted to end it all. Not the kind of cry that you cry when you stub your toe, but the kind of cry that you cry when you heart has been ripped from your chest. And the kind of cry that you cry when your lings cannot get enough air. 

The kind of cry when you are on your knees praying for anything, something, to stop this pain. 

The kind of cry when your cheeks are soaked in tears that keep pouring out of your eyes like they have every intention of drowning you, the kind of cry when you are so sad, that you just might let them. 

Sincerely, 

Calum.

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