pastries and paint {merlin x hunter}!blitz
Jan 20, 2017 22:00:23 GMT -5
Post by ᴥ on Jan 20, 2017 22:00:23 GMT -5
    h u n t e r . The trees are purple today. Purple like the wringing of my hands, the racing of my heart and the way if feels like it's trapped between two walls slowly crawling toward me. Inevitability, that is purple. To watch disaster approach and to know that I can do nothing but splatter different shades of an anxious color upon tree trunks. I am purple today. Lilacs and violets have dried upon my jeans, hands splattered with their songs as I make my way back to the house with a woven basket and dormant words. I'm so jealous of their sounds. Their voices are intoxicating, they taste like raspberries upon the tip of my tongue. Sometimes they are bitter, not yet ripe snd sour down my broken throat and sometimes they are sweet - as though they have been marinated in sugar and cream. My brother's voice is sweet. At least, I like to think of him as my brother. We share nothing but our last name and I know that it is a flimsy tie to which I cling but I care for them all as though they were my flesh and blood and I can only hope that they feel the same. It's not as if I can ask them, anyway. Instead I live in an ignorance that paints yellow smiles upon my cheeks. I've scrawled the note a thousand times over, tearing out the page and writing a simple sentence over and over again. I keep to myself more often than not- terrified of the words they can so freely throw about. I don't want to be hurt by them and so I surround myself with purple trees who feel the same as me. Have a picnic with me. (: I hand it to Merlin without meeting his eyes, basket I had filled the might before clutched within sweaty palms. I've never been good at this- people talk too fast and too loud for my hands to keep up, pencils break and pens run out of ink but their voices are strong. Smooth and soft like golden silk- voices that will never break nor run dry. The jealousy is green. |
