09-22-2016, 10:50 AM
± swallow my doubt turn it inside out ±
Of course you are coming with us, as if it could never be otherwise. She was so certain, so absolute in her response that if he were a weaker man he might have been afraid by the honesty of it. It was a set in stone rightness as it fell from her midnight lips and he could not ever hope to match the fierceness with which she claimed him. It felt like claiming anyway, the polar opposite of the way the world worked as he knew it but he didn’t protest. Something about this awkward but pleasant gathering eased his weary mind and muscles and he was glad to simply accept their favor. Yet something coiled at the back of his mind about whether or not he rightly deserved it, was he worth all this forgiveness?
Forgiveness, had to be, because something about how they hung on his words made him feel like his answers were all wrong. They were not the voice or the reasonings or the replies that they wanted, he could tell, yet they took them anyway- and he thanked them for it. He loved them for it.
Love or something like it. They made him feel immensely warm inside, like everything would be okay even though he could hardly recall his childhood. Where had all those memories gone? Certainly he was a kid once, how long ago? Not that his childhood was the biggest question, the most important one that nagged him was who exactly he was. What kind of man was he? He felt like the answers waited somewhere within the steady gaze of emerald, were held against the youthful face of the girl that he coddled only moments before and he wanted to know them. He wanted truths.
And she pressed into him too just before they set off, that woman the color darkness before dawn. Caressed him like a purring cat and while it surprised him and was only faintly awkward, it was pleasant and he smiled to himself.
After that he followed, feeling strange to take up the rear but why? Was he a leader usually? No, couldn’t be he hummed to himself as they went. If they were his childhood friend, if they were a once prince of the Chamber they would have recognized the tune. One sang deep in the still and dark of night, something cooed to a tree that would later burn. Before they even set foot past the border he brightened, became more alert as the smells flooded him. Thick and heavy and burning. Brimstone and ash and melted core and the scent made his skin prickle like a thousand tiny needles, he almost barged past the borderlines without them then. Yet he remained poised in the back, muscles tensed as he stilled himself. “Home,” he breathed exhaling a smoke laced breath. “It smells like home,” his eyes were closed now as he took in deep gulps of air and while he couldn’t remember why it smelled like home, couldn’t for certain remember home for that matter- he remembered this smell.
Forgiveness, had to be, because something about how they hung on his words made him feel like his answers were all wrong. They were not the voice or the reasonings or the replies that they wanted, he could tell, yet they took them anyway- and he thanked them for it. He loved them for it.
Love or something like it. They made him feel immensely warm inside, like everything would be okay even though he could hardly recall his childhood. Where had all those memories gone? Certainly he was a kid once, how long ago? Not that his childhood was the biggest question, the most important one that nagged him was who exactly he was. What kind of man was he? He felt like the answers waited somewhere within the steady gaze of emerald, were held against the youthful face of the girl that he coddled only moments before and he wanted to know them. He wanted truths.
And she pressed into him too just before they set off, that woman the color darkness before dawn. Caressed him like a purring cat and while it surprised him and was only faintly awkward, it was pleasant and he smiled to himself.
After that he followed, feeling strange to take up the rear but why? Was he a leader usually? No, couldn’t be he hummed to himself as they went. If they were his childhood friend, if they were a once prince of the Chamber they would have recognized the tune. One sang deep in the still and dark of night, something cooed to a tree that would later burn. Before they even set foot past the border he brightened, became more alert as the smells flooded him. Thick and heavy and burning. Brimstone and ash and melted core and the scent made his skin prickle like a thousand tiny needles, he almost barged past the borderlines without them then. Yet he remained poised in the back, muscles tensed as he stilled himself. “Home,” he breathed exhaling a smoke laced breath. “It smells like home,” his eyes were closed now as he took in deep gulps of air and while he couldn’t remember why it smelled like home, couldn’t for certain remember home for that matter- he remembered this smell.
KILLDARE
spin around to a beautiful oblivion
