[private] don't put my love on your back burner. || circinae

[Canaan]

Canaan

Don't put my love on your back burner.
Never let anything that hot get cold.

  Sadness has found its way into his eyes, when each finally settle onto her – she is no longer as she was; no longer as he thought she was. She is the wolf beneath sheepskin – how fitting it is, that she takes the form of her true self when confrontation is too much for her to handle! He can see her more clearly than he ever had now, and she is not at all what he thought, not at all what his heart desired. Perhaps there is still some small piece of her (the wild, charismatic, vivacious spirit he had fallen in love with), buried somewhere deep within, but he cannot bring himself to feel any desire to draw it out – she is gone to him, withdrawn, and he is left wondering if she had ever loved him at all.

  She is rife with sarcasm and malevolence, but he merely stares. He does not indulge her in her pettiness, as each word seeks to drive a jagged dagger between the hardness of his rib cage, to pierce his heart. There is nothing but wretched melancholy to lace the golden flecks of his eyes as she becomes what she always had been beneath. How had he been so blind? His mother, scathing and biting, is standing before him, and he had been too much of a fool to realize the trope he had fallen into.

  He does not say a word.

  There is nothing to say; she had dragged the knife along the tenderness of his heart, just as he had reached out to her – seeking reassurance, seeking her affection. She had spurned him, turning away from him with an iciness where there had once been heat. Too consumed with her own emotion to see his own. Too consumed with herself to see anything beyond her own avarice.

  He was not the one lacking.

  With his wingspan outstretched and a heavy gust of wind to carry him, he is gone.

And if you ever change your mind and want to leave my love behind,
Just let me be the second one to know.

@[Circinae]