Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Spite, anger, and vitriol didn’t permit her to turn around. They froze her solid, in place, until his words came along, buzzing against her. I’m going to be better her mind conjured. I’m going to be brighter. And burn, burn, burn, maybe, but not until her inferno had glorified and the world saw her – not like him, not like them, not like the void conspiring beneath her feet.
“All right,” she confirmed, jaw clenching, before she advanced out of the doorframe, Fangorn grumbling close behind, and back into the sea air. No more parting words. No more backwards glances, wondering how on earth he was supposed to pick himself out of his trials again and again. No more worrying. No more consternation.
No more, no more, no more; broken off, in pieces and slivers. Melita had already said enough.
{FIN}
“All right,” she confirmed, jaw clenching, before she advanced out of the doorframe, Fangorn grumbling close behind, and back into the sea air. No more parting words. No more backwards glances, wondering how on earth he was supposed to pick himself out of his trials again and again. No more worrying. No more consternation.
No more, no more, no more; broken off, in pieces and slivers. Melita had already said enough.
{FIN}
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
