Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
She waited for him to make a decision – along with her embers and cinders, her ashes and coals, her brimming vehemence. It pooled over and exuded on her skin, on her features, on her flesh, until she was fire reborn and ambitious, an aspiring multitude of solar flares and dominions. She wouldn’t be swayed. She couldn’t be denied. Her anger was one of her few, wealthy things; ample and certain, teeth bared and ready.
He could spin it. He could try. She didn’t care. What was there to misinterpret or misunderstand? He’d fucked up again and again and again, and nothing ever changed. He didn’t learn anything from it. And she couldn’t get past the multitudes of errors in this go-around, and wouldn’t be the one he’d need to beg forgiveness from.
Go ahead, she wanted to shout as he balled his fists. Be angry. Give her a reason to unfurl her staff or draw her bow once more.
And then he didn’t; a retreat, a withdrawal. Melita shook her head, disappointed in so many things all at once. “That’s probably the best idea you’ve had in a long time.” Go home. Do something less asinine.
So she lifted her chin again, radiant and defiant, the sun and the huntress, the beast and the flames, before turning back the other way, and continuing to explore. Without the nuances of his ineptitude, without the flourishes of his mistakes crowding around her. She’d said her piece. It’d be up to him, in the end.
Somehow it always was.
{FIN}
He could spin it. He could try. She didn’t care. What was there to misinterpret or misunderstand? He’d fucked up again and again and again, and nothing ever changed. He didn’t learn anything from it. And she couldn’t get past the multitudes of errors in this go-around, and wouldn’t be the one he’d need to beg forgiveness from.
Go ahead, she wanted to shout as he balled his fists. Be angry. Give her a reason to unfurl her staff or draw her bow once more.
And then he didn’t; a retreat, a withdrawal. Melita shook her head, disappointed in so many things all at once. “That’s probably the best idea you’ve had in a long time.” Go home. Do something less asinine.
So she lifted her chin again, radiant and defiant, the sun and the huntress, the beast and the flames, before turning back the other way, and continuing to explore. Without the nuances of his ineptitude, without the flourishes of his mistakes crowding around her. She’d said her piece. It’d be up to him, in the end.
Somehow it always was.
{FIN}
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
