to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
She shrugged, not a ladylike gesture, but something akin to savage, feral little sprites, with jagged teeth, pointed fangs, and a craving for mutinous havoc. “I’m not.” The girl couldn’t even be bothered to pretend, and she wasn’t sorry for him. A part of her figured most of his trials, tribulations, sorrows, and whatever other sad, stupid events had likely stemmed from his actions, consequences for being who he was. After all, hadn’t that been a majority of hers too? Family that couldn’t be saved because she wasn’t strong enough? Becoming blighted and terrorizing the world because she’d been too weak?
Melita shook her head, incapable of perceiving one another as having anything in common, and went back to the puddle, struggling not to be consumed, enraptured, enchanted, beguiled, by anything thrown and rippled her way. This time it was bright, vivid color, contortions of glass, familiar noses pressed up against it, and maybe she could’ve wasted away before the image, given those few chances to relive moments long since passed.
Melita shook her head, incapable of perceiving one another as having anything in common, and went back to the puddle, struggling not to be consumed, enraptured, enchanted, beguiled, by anything thrown and rippled her way. This time it was bright, vivid color, contortions of glass, familiar noses pressed up against it, and maybe she could’ve wasted away before the image, given those few chances to relive moments long since passed.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
