to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Senses and semblances; an overwhelming cacophony of enigmatic assortments settled into her soul, into her chest. And for a moment, she had to pause, take a breath, to let them all sink in. A taste of something bizarre over the press of her tongue, the chill and depths of death, the warmth of other things, sounds of merriment and amusements – all reeling, all consuming.And then there was the one she stood by. The smell of flowers reached her nose and plucked at her memories, at days spent in childhood glimmer and enthusiasm, dancing amidst glens and meadows of wild overgrowth. Petals soaked in the sun. Her sister gliding through patches of clover and lilacs. Their mother nearby, inspecting each blade of grass for potential healing remedies; a quiet song exuding.
So she stayed – not moving an inch or a muscle, not enticed or enthralled by anything more than this.
--
Melita remains by the humming red box!
to be the sun
MELITA
