please stay, for this fear will not die

[Noori]

Most days, most days stay the sole same
Please stay, for this fear it will not die
Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
Weeds grow, through the lillies and the vines

She bathes.

Withers deep, head submerged.

Plants can hold their breath for a long time.

From here, the sun's light filters through the river's topmost layer with an gold angelicism nearing incomprehensibility; it glitters in a way most fantastic. When Noori sends the fishies to swim to and fro beneath its rays, their scales reflect colours unseen from the above-water world. How beautiful.

How boring.

She bades one such fish swim in her mouth, just to know how it feels. The bone-like wood of her molars caress the creature, feel its scales like the crevices of a mountain; she mutes the urge to bite down, knowing such pointless cruelty would gain her nothing. Still, the magician convinces herself that the fish manages to escape when it wiggles from her lips rather than acknowledging that she freed it by way of her own choice.

Splash.

The above-water world tastes disgusting; she resents it. The cries of her own ecstacy during lovemaking in a river such as this keen on repeat in her mind's ear and in one single moment, she wishes to be fucked like that again (to feel that cavernous void that gapes at the center of her being filled with the physical delirium of trauma-bonded cock, to kiss goodbye her sense of sanity and health in the name of toxic love, to lose her identity to a man whose identity-eating appetite could not be satiated no matter how wet she became for him) while wishing also to die.

Her teeth gnash, the absence of the fish infuriating.

noori