Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Didn’t arson make hearts grow fonder? Or maybe that was just Melita – content under the threat of demolition and destruction, in the presence of potential vengeance and a favorite friend, returned from the ruin of his own making. Her support had always been unwavering, had he just let her, and perhaps that was where they were now – skating and skimming over what it meant to be beyond children and their games. Purpose and promise laden; rather than pretenses and showboating, consequences and all.
And for all her impulses and veracity, the Honeybee didn’t expect his reaction – the threat of tears, the long-held breath, the world-weary rasp, and the sudden swinging of his head against hers. Touch-starved as she was, and of her own volition, she curled into the motions immediately, nestled somewhere in the roll of muscles and shoulders, trying to abate the own rush of emotions clamoring behind her eyes. They lurched against her ribcage and wanted to keenly defy the control she contained, eager to fracture and break – later, probably, when he wasn’t there, and she’d be able to wade through the fragments, try to decipher, reflect. There was even sedition played across her lips, clinging to a few unspoken words to either joke or tease or taunt away from the torture he was putting himself through again. What came out instead was her forthright candor again, a rogue little smile he probably couldn’t see. “I mean, I’m not going anywhere,” so the motions were in his sway and power again. Melita would coast and ghost and spring about across regions in her own unrestrained ferocity; and he’d be welcome to join.
Goose’s long breath and duck call broke over a lot of things; and certainly the tension riddled in her frame. She laughed again, loud and exultant, avoiding the bold and audacious endeavor clinging to her fingers, thoughts of plucking tears out of his eyes, and more to rogue invitations. “And now we can do far worse things.”
And for all her impulses and veracity, the Honeybee didn’t expect his reaction – the threat of tears, the long-held breath, the world-weary rasp, and the sudden swinging of his head against hers. Touch-starved as she was, and of her own volition, she curled into the motions immediately, nestled somewhere in the roll of muscles and shoulders, trying to abate the own rush of emotions clamoring behind her eyes. They lurched against her ribcage and wanted to keenly defy the control she contained, eager to fracture and break – later, probably, when he wasn’t there, and she’d be able to wade through the fragments, try to decipher, reflect. There was even sedition played across her lips, clinging to a few unspoken words to either joke or tease or taunt away from the torture he was putting himself through again. What came out instead was her forthright candor again, a rogue little smile he probably couldn’t see. “I mean, I’m not going anywhere,” so the motions were in his sway and power again. Melita would coast and ghost and spring about across regions in her own unrestrained ferocity; and he’d be welcome to join.
Goose’s long breath and duck call broke over a lot of things; and certainly the tension riddled in her frame. She laughed again, loud and exultant, avoiding the bold and audacious endeavor clinging to her fingers, thoughts of plucking tears out of his eyes, and more to rogue invitations. “And now we can do far worse things.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
