DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
A nod sanctioned her response, as his long limbs kept moving across the sand, restless and all-enduring. In his forthright mind, he trusted very few now: whittling away down at his edges until a scarce amount remained, uncertain if they’d be interested, or off doing other things. “I will let you know if I think of anyone,” another promise, but quiet and aloof, the potential for withdrawing contorting deeper and deeper into his measures – even though he’d been told time and time again to cease, to desist, in keeping them so thoroughly contained. But sometimes he didn’t know if he wanted help, or how to reach for support, because it was so much easier to not, and suffer by himself.
To stop dragging everything else down around him; like a gravitational pull of misery and melancholy. He was supposed to be the shelter, the sanctuary, the protecting, all-mighty force, until he even ruined that for himself.
Those were his consequences now, and he could feel it binding against his chest all the time.
The refusal was there, right behind his teeth, amidst his jaw clenching, unclenching. Eyes that amassed over the horizon; on the skyline, on stars and constellations and galaxies. “I would not burden you,” was all he could say.
To stop dragging everything else down around him; like a gravitational pull of misery and melancholy. He was supposed to be the shelter, the sanctuary, the protecting, all-mighty force, until he even ruined that for himself.
Those were his consequences now, and he could feel it binding against his chest all the time.
The refusal was there, right behind his teeth, amidst his jaw clenching, unclenching. Eyes that amassed over the horizon; on the skyline, on stars and constellations and galaxies. “I would not burden you,” was all he could say.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
