DEIMOS
the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times
for I have burned too many times
An echo, a reverberation of the same; and he had no place there, in the shells and remnants, in the broken pieces. Before, before, before had been traces where he could fill in the gaps and spaces, provide reassurance, lifelines, anchors – now it was just muddled confusion, and she’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome in it.
“You do not have to apologize.” For feelings, for doubts, for everything else; and all she’d wanted was time, and him gone.
He rose, batting away something collecting on the edge of his eyes, swallowing down the sudden onslaught and terrors bombarding him. Sent away, insignificant, incapable of contributing, useless, useless, useless. His voice was quiet, a whisper in the frenetic air, wishing she’d merely take his hands or grab onto the support he always provided – no matter the circumstances – completely, utterly, at a loss. “I do not want you to pretend.” Rather it be real; even though he’d eternally done the same, smothering every nuance, every figment, of trauma down, down, down until eventually it ate away at him.
Would it now?
The Sword traced his way back to the small bathroom, to the tub, running the water, wondering what it would be like to merely succumb to all those pressures and sentiments again.
{FIN}
“You do not have to apologize.” For feelings, for doubts, for everything else; and all she’d wanted was time, and him gone.
He rose, batting away something collecting on the edge of his eyes, swallowing down the sudden onslaught and terrors bombarding him. Sent away, insignificant, incapable of contributing, useless, useless, useless. His voice was quiet, a whisper in the frenetic air, wishing she’d merely take his hands or grab onto the support he always provided – no matter the circumstances – completely, utterly, at a loss. “I do not want you to pretend.” Rather it be real; even though he’d eternally done the same, smothering every nuance, every figment, of trauma down, down, down until eventually it ate away at him.
Would it now?
The Sword traced his way back to the small bathroom, to the tub, running the water, wondering what it would be like to merely succumb to all those pressures and sentiments again.
{FIN}
the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life
for I have been drowning all my life
