04-17-2018, 07:18 PM
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
I don't want him to be sure when he's around me.
(Girl, you aren't even sure about yourself and, well, you see the problem with that.)
Yes, but you just pointing that out over and over again really doesn't make me moving on from, oh, y'know, everything that's been happening to me any easier, right?
(It's not my fault that you got knocked up, abandoned the kid, tried to kill yourself, and fucked the queen - I mean it sort of is my fault, since I am you, after all.)
Did I mention seriously not helpful? Because I don't want to have to repeat myself.
(Maybe you should stop arguing with yourself and pay attention to the world around you.)
Despite the cutting edge of my words flung towards his most important arteries, he's still stepping closer to me as if what I seek right now is physical consolation - coddling. My top lip peels back in an angry sneer as he gently pushes his frowning face towards mine, and before I can help myself I'm lunging towards him; my teeth click on empty air. I can still taste the blood of him, and as sanity slowly trickles back into my skin, I know I needn't damage him more.
Physically or psychologically.
He stays, even after I've warned him against touching me, and the barricade I'd put up crumbles in the face of such genuine caring and compassion. I want to bite him, to kick him, to hurt him just like he suspects; but how can I do so in my right mind when all he wants to do is heal me? How can I fuck up more than I already have without really going and doing what I'd intended to the day that Solace had saved me.
My shoulders slump, and the life drains from my eyes. His words are like cold water on my festering wounds, and I cannot help but to flinch despite its healing power. As I come to terms with what he's said, and with how he's right, too, I lift my gaze from where it'd fallen back to his cerulean eyes. There's blood on my lips; there's tears on my cheeks.
"I don't know." My hooves shuffle backwards, the voice in my head growing louder and louder as I withdraw from this reality. "I'm sorry; I have to go."
To her.
(Girl, you aren't even sure about yourself and, well, you see the problem with that.)
Yes, but you just pointing that out over and over again really doesn't make me moving on from, oh, y'know, everything that's been happening to me any easier, right?
(It's not my fault that you got knocked up, abandoned the kid, tried to kill yourself, and fucked the queen - I mean it sort of is my fault, since I am you, after all.)
Did I mention seriously not helpful? Because I don't want to have to repeat myself.
(Maybe you should stop arguing with yourself and pay attention to the world around you.)
Despite the cutting edge of my words flung towards his most important arteries, he's still stepping closer to me as if what I seek right now is physical consolation - coddling. My top lip peels back in an angry sneer as he gently pushes his frowning face towards mine, and before I can help myself I'm lunging towards him; my teeth click on empty air. I can still taste the blood of him, and as sanity slowly trickles back into my skin, I know I needn't damage him more.
Physically or psychologically.
He stays, even after I've warned him against touching me, and the barricade I'd put up crumbles in the face of such genuine caring and compassion. I want to bite him, to kick him, to hurt him just like he suspects; but how can I do so in my right mind when all he wants to do is heal me? How can I fuck up more than I already have without really going and doing what I'd intended to the day that Solace had saved me.
My shoulders slump, and the life drains from my eyes. His words are like cold water on my festering wounds, and I cannot help but to flinch despite its healing power. As I come to terms with what he's said, and with how he's right, too, I lift my gaze from where it'd fallen back to his cerulean eyes. There's blood on my lips; there's tears on my cheeks.
"I don't know." My hooves shuffle backwards, the voice in my head growing louder and louder as I withdraw from this reality. "I'm sorry; I have to go."
To her.
Kagerus
sweet nothing
@[Svedka]
dreamweaver