to be lit up from within
vein by vein
What was it like – a wondering, a question on the tip of her tongue that she wouldn’t ask. Afraid, maybe, of the answer, of the things she might crave, of the things that would turn her into something she wasn’t. So she refrained, watching the parrots dance along the sky instead, their feathers bright and vivid, stark and absolute against the blue horizon. Thereafter though, she wanted to crumble and crumple into a ball, hide herself from the wake of pain suddenly bombarding. It ached, to be forgotten, to think of stretching her own wings and hastening along the sea without some brethren, some family, some friends attached. She once wished and chanted for new adventures, beautiful shards of audacious, wondrous splendor, and now it sunk, in the pits of her stomach, in the walls of her heart. She’d dealt her own crushing blow, in believing she was capable of leaving other worlds behind, when they’d so readily done the same to her. Her breathing tightened, lungs welling, eyes brimming, and she tucked her arm over her eyes, as if shielding herself from the sun, when it was really his gaze she couldn’t bear, and the words pressing on her soul that she didn’t want to face. “Okay,” she laughed through an impending sniffle, imagining him appearing on the waves, or a bird on her shoulders. “I’ll hold you to that.”
to be the sun
MELITA
