to be lit up from within
vein by vein
She watched, waited, for some kind of rebuttal, for some seething notion, for some fire to be spewed and unfurled, and not just from her own infernal accord. The rapacity curled through her veins and pulsed along her frame, biding her time, bare minimum of patience resting in the gilded turn of her eyes. You’re right wasn’t what she wanted, or needed, to hear. She knew that already. It was him who needed it sunk into his flesh and bone, into his ridiculous, stupefied mind. He was hellbent on self-destruction, and unfortunately, would take others down in his wake, in his burning at both ends, in his consuming, devouring nature. Her chin lifted again, the stare never fading, never glimpsing away, truth and veracity pouring from her lungs, from her throat. “We all make mistakes. But you just seem to be making the same ones.” Running away or to others, endless shapes and beacons, bottomless drums signifying nothing. What did he have to show from all his tireless affairs and stupid actions? Death? Broken bars? Ruptured bonds? “Do something different.” Her utterance was emboldened and she didn’t care; half-hoping he’d commit another action besides agreement in her words. Perhaps he’d said them to himself over and over again, and it hadn’t stuck. Hadn’t clicked.She felt like setting him ablaze on the fringes, on the edges, of his own kindled provocations and denseness. Arms still folded across her chest, the wake of Hels curling above their heads, she regarded and stared, shaking her head slightly, locks wild and free. What would it take for him to be free? Unburdened? Unshackled? Untethered by every ignorant line he’d tied, knotted, and gnarled for himself? “What are you even trying to chase?”
to be the sun
MELITA
