breathe me; any

[October]

There is hope that the Gates still stand. It felt so invincible when she was young, consort to Sariel, impossibly in love and blinded to the ways of the world. She was consumed, obsessed, and blind to the pain that love like that can bring. Love's destruction is swift and effortless when you turn away from its warmth and the embrace you so greedily consumed. October shakes the thoughts away. She no longer wants the ghost of her former self to cling like a spider's web. She wants to be free. Free of the past, free of Sariel's ghost, free of her own shame. She had brought her own failures, her own crumbling destruction. She was a silly mare that had pitied herself long enough. She acknowledged her blame instead of the fits of tears, crying ugly, IT'S NOT FAIR! '...of course it was fair', the words whisper coolly though her mind. It was a long-overdue injustice to finally grow up, but October has done it. She has shed the skin and metamorphosed. It only took her a little longer. Spring has breathed life back into the Gates, the grass sewing through the early mud, threads of daffodil leaves pricking the winter-worn ground. She can feel the bloom of hope in her own heart. It was good to be back, good to feel a spring chill on her shaggy coat; the Gates would be forever her home. -sworn to the gates