forgetting a stranger — penelope ; day six
Nov 22, 2019 19:25:21 GMT -5
Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 22, 2019 19:25:21 GMT -5
I kiss Vargen's cheek in the night.
And he's awake, I know this, but we pretend like we're alone. For each other — for ourselves. I owe him nothing, and he owes me less, but there are still tears in my eyes that I can't wipe away. They're not for him, but I can't claim them for myself, so I let them fall. I look away from my silver haired prince and to the stars.
I say this as if he's not a serpent at my feet, waiting to strike. I say this so that he knows I could crush him if I wanted to — that we could destroy each other, but why? We're the only ones left, and I'm bleeding again, and all I want is to sleep.
So I leave him, looking over my shoulder only once — and suddenly he's just a body lying in the flowers, a shape in the distance. I don't give him a name. I will myself to forget it. "I hope you die tomorrow." That ends the story, rips the page from the book and sets it on fire. I start a new chapter.
I fall asleep with my axes pressed to my chest, with snow in my hair and my breath on the wind. It hangs there, like a memory, until it finally fades. And I take hold of my life, dig my nails into its flesh. I refuse to let go. I survive.
Even if it burns.
Even if I don't want to see myself in the light.
And he's awake, I know this, but we pretend like we're alone. For each other — for ourselves. I owe him nothing, and he owes me less, but there are still tears in my eyes that I can't wipe away. They're not for him, but I can't claim them for myself, so I let them fall. I look away from my silver haired prince and to the stars.
"You won't kill me tonight."
I say this as if he's not a serpent at my feet, waiting to strike. I say this so that he knows I could crush him if I wanted to — that we could destroy each other, but why? We're the only ones left, and I'm bleeding again, and all I want is to sleep.
So I leave him, looking over my shoulder only once — and suddenly he's just a body lying in the flowers, a shape in the distance. I don't give him a name. I will myself to forget it. "I hope you die tomorrow." That ends the story, rips the page from the book and sets it on fire. I start a new chapter.
I fall asleep with my axes pressed to my chest, with snow in my hair and my breath on the wind. It hangs there, like a memory, until it finally fades. And I take hold of my life, dig my nails into its flesh. I refuse to let go. I survive.
I fall asleep thinking,
'I will wake up tomorrow.
I will see the sun.'
'I will wake up tomorrow.
I will see the sun.'
Even if it burns.
Even if I don't want to see myself in the light.
( maintenance to follow )
