shiloh herondale {district ten} |. wip

If I was to die tomorrow, I'd shout until my ears bled from my own voice. If I was to burn tonight, I'd run to the moon and stars with dust flying off my heels.

If I was dangling from a frayed thread, I'd let go and free fall straight to the stones and get up with a few bruises and scratches. If I was -

If.

If is an infinity, an endless galaxy of possibilities.

But in time we all learn that stars burn,

moons crumble,

suns burst,

planets wilt.

And our infinities crumble, waste away with the current of the wind, like particles of sand. We are left with a blunt, gray future, displayed on an old, grainy television with static that sounds like a chorus of screams.

Finite fantasies drift along the edges of the darkness of reality, every so often allowing my broken frame of bones to fall into its cotton candy arms. Fantasy, so sweet on my tongue it is blackly bitter and summons bile from depths poisoned and boiling from an avalanche of sugar and a rainstorm of molasses.

you taught me the courage

of the stars before you left
how light carries on endlessly

∞

{ table: zoë }

They say I fell from the stars, born from the darkness of space and cast to the earth in a furious streak of light. Others claim my birth was a roulette of pure chance and randomness, that the hands of luck itself carried me into existence.

No one knows where I came from.

how rare and beautiful it is

to even exist
i couldn't help but ask

∞

{ table: zoë }