jamie
10-02-2021, 08:28 PM
jamie
I CAN’T EXACTLY DESCRIBE HOW I FEEL
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
Perhaps he knows she is there, senses her even before she speaks.
But he does not lift his head from where it lays in the dust, not at first. For a time, he only breathes and listens and remembers as ropes of pain splinter outward from the center of his chest to infect every inch of him.
It is only when she speaks that he lifts his head and looks at her and remembers, too, but it had been like to have to avert his eyes from beauty. Because it made the dark heart beat sideways, because it hit him like a physical ache.
First Beyza and then Evia. And perhaps, simply because he is remembering, he averts his eyes again. Because she casts her own light in the impenetrable darkness, a halo of moons arcing around her head. No, he is not worthy of casting his gaze upon these things of beauty.
Her question elicits his own shark-tooth smile, the mouth dripping ink-black. For a moment, his only response is a loaded silence. Before, finally, he draws the pain back into the cavern of his chest where he has kept it buried and hauls himself back to his feet and turns to face her.
His edges are soft in the light she throws and he wonders if he could manipulate the moons that circle her lovely head. But he does not try. Instead, he calls upon a new moon. A moon that hangs fat and bright just above them, a thing that belongs only to the heavy darkness that surrounds them. It amplifies the glow of her stars, throws into sharp relief the razored edges of his teeth when he smiles again.
“It serves me well to remember where I came from,” he tells her. The crippled child he had been. He draws in another rattling breath. “I was not always as able-bodied as I am now.”
But he does not lift his head from where it lays in the dust, not at first. For a time, he only breathes and listens and remembers as ropes of pain splinter outward from the center of his chest to infect every inch of him.
It is only when she speaks that he lifts his head and looks at her and remembers, too, but it had been like to have to avert his eyes from beauty. Because it made the dark heart beat sideways, because it hit him like a physical ache.
First Beyza and then Evia. And perhaps, simply because he is remembering, he averts his eyes again. Because she casts her own light in the impenetrable darkness, a halo of moons arcing around her head. No, he is not worthy of casting his gaze upon these things of beauty.
Her question elicits his own shark-tooth smile, the mouth dripping ink-black. For a moment, his only response is a loaded silence. Before, finally, he draws the pain back into the cavern of his chest where he has kept it buried and hauls himself back to his feet and turns to face her.
His edges are soft in the light she throws and he wonders if he could manipulate the moons that circle her lovely head. But he does not try. Instead, he calls upon a new moon. A moon that hangs fat and bright just above them, a thing that belongs only to the heavy darkness that surrounds them. It amplifies the glow of her stars, throws into sharp relief the razored edges of his teeth when he smiles again.
“It serves me well to remember where I came from,” he tells her. The crippled child he had been. He draws in another rattling breath. “I was not always as able-bodied as I am now.”
AND IT LEAVES ME COLD
@Desire