to be lit up from within
vein by vein
A thousand pulses and waves circumvented through the Honeybee’s mind – ghosts, first and foremost, of ruined and mired individuals, of ones she’d figured had gone the way of Mort just like everyone else. Outstretched limbs and foolish hearts, gone and broken beyond repair, dissipating back into the earth because that was what happened to nearly everyone she knew. Iskra had been amongst and amidst the many in her impulsive, speculative haze; conjectures and casualties, mourned and lost and never quite knowing how to take it. Forging onward, instead of becoming a shell, had usually been the trick, taking on bolder enterprises until she knew power and bedlam like the back of her own hands, waiting on the precipice, watching to see if someone else strived to take another thing away from her.The crowd murmured, parted, and dissipated after a few moments, either disinterested or unimpressed when nothing violent came of the commotion. Melita though, stilled within the confines of the embrace, uncertain and unsure, brows furrowing in the platitudes of confusion. Maybe it was him; grown and parted and not dead. Maybe her head was playing tricks on her. Maybe everything spun beneath her feet, and she clenched her jaw so tightly that she’d saw stars.
But if this was her once best friend, then, a myriad of other currents pulled… ”Where the hell have you been?” She uttered instead, as quiet as she was able, caught in the turmoil of bewilderment and reunions.
to be the sun
MELITA
