girls can be dangerous and still win
It hurts you she wanted to say or explode. But she couldn’t fathom living without a heart, no emotions, no boldness, no impudence. Nor had she suffered in the same capacities; now with keen edges turned blunt and almost nothing seemed to rankle. But should that be what his life was like too – naught at all?
Taking a break, he said. Something clenched in her jaw and she loosened a breath through her nose, dragging out sentiments that, had she voiced them, would’ve probably launched devastating turns. “What if you end up waiting for years?” She voiced instead, glancing back his way after taking a bite of the cake pop, letting the sweetness trickle in and absorb the bitter convictions threatening to take hold. Gods, she wanted him to do something for himself so badly – but he had to be willing to commit. She couldn’t do it for him, and maybe that was the more frustrating part. For all their talks and understandings, everything still ground to a halt, went in opposing directions. “That’s not healthy either.” She should know; she tried it all the time by rarely looking back at the trauma – granting leaps and bounds and thinking it wouldn’t touch or scorch her again.
At the next stall were bells, and because she knew they needed one for the upcoming festival, she perused and circled, rather than stomping off or shaking her head. Colt was easier to discuss, she supposed, and she grew more muted despite it all, striving to wipe the mulish complexities from herself and failing. “That’s good. How’s the rest of it going?”
Taking a break, he said. Something clenched in her jaw and she loosened a breath through her nose, dragging out sentiments that, had she voiced them, would’ve probably launched devastating turns. “What if you end up waiting for years?” She voiced instead, glancing back his way after taking a bite of the cake pop, letting the sweetness trickle in and absorb the bitter convictions threatening to take hold. Gods, she wanted him to do something for himself so badly – but he had to be willing to commit. She couldn’t do it for him, and maybe that was the more frustrating part. For all their talks and understandings, everything still ground to a halt, went in opposing directions. “That’s not healthy either.” She should know; she tried it all the time by rarely looking back at the trauma – granting leaps and bounds and thinking it wouldn’t touch or scorch her again.
At the next stall were bells, and because she knew they needed one for the upcoming festival, she perused and circled, rather than stomping off or shaking her head. Colt was easier to discuss, she supposed, and she grew more muted despite it all, striving to wipe the mulish complexities from herself and failing. “That’s good. How’s the rest of it going?”
Melita
she knew exactly what she was doing when she invited the wild in
