zephyr
And at the end of the day that's all there is to it, right? The story ends how it always does: with something unimaginable and an eloquent fuck, because how else are you supposed to respond to something like that? Through the haze of inebriation and pain you are distantly aware that her hand is on yours, and that you really ought to draw away, but you can't bring yourself to.
Nor can you lean in closer, take the comfort you desperately need. You're frozen in place and time, just like you had been for years. This is what you get for trying to move on, for thinking there might be a life after loss. Joke's on you, Zephyr boy. That was never to be your lot.
It does feel cathartic to get it out. Now you can go back to burying down every piece of emotion you once burned so brightly with, to pretending that you're fine. "Yeah. So. 'S where I'm at." Strangely detached now, you shrug impassively. "'S what I get for givin' a fuck."
Nor can you lean in closer, take the comfort you desperately need. You're frozen in place and time, just like you had been for years. This is what you get for trying to move on, for thinking there might be a life after loss. Joke's on you, Zephyr boy. That was never to be your lot.
It does feel cathartic to get it out. Now you can go back to burying down every piece of emotion you once burned so brightly with, to pretending that you're fine. "Yeah. So. 'S where I'm at." Strangely detached now, you shrug impassively. "'S what I get for givin' a fuck."
burn all the things you have to burn
save all the people you're supposed to save
save all the people you're supposed to save
