flarencia eon { d9 } fin

I lost and loved young.

He took off his clothes and an atomic bomb blew my mind. A perfect war—I miss him, but he loved with a freezing destruction that never faded or weakened. I ached for his love, but I shed my skin and forced myself to move on. I did it repeatedly, again and again because as the days went on, I still thought of him.

I realise now that I have filled graveyards with the people I used to be.

Heartbreak chipped away at me. Eyes that were once rounded and whole became irregular and sharp. Features hollowed with hunger, fingers turned to claws; the serrated edges of my heart cut away at my beauty. I once looked at the world, but now I glare at the badlands, burning through the flesh of my brothers and sisters. Skeletons on the edge of a volcano—every piece of ash is a flaming dagger that cuts into their skin.

The world is too old to break the House of Eons, and we're all too young to break out. Weapons are raised and the homeless quickly become rebels without a cause. I didn't want to shed another skin when they put a roof over my head, and so anger became bravery.

Four months later and I am setting myself alight, hoping they will scatter my ashes. They are all I have now; he's gone and so is my past.

I stare at the sun, a hand raised above my eyes. It feels like fire—and he told me that this is how the world ends.

But I think that he is wrong.