and bury it before it buries me
Her life in Paraiso seemed so long ago, that on some days, Elena wondered if she had dreamt it. She remembered the mist of waterfall clinging to her body, the flowers dancing in their fields when a wind swept through. She thought of an old willow tree, the calls of forest birds, and the twitching noses of rabbits. She thought of the loving gaze of Valerio and the loyalty and love of her kingdom. She thought of it often, until it took on abstract shapes with little meaning, until it faded in the corners.
She thought of it until her heart ached, until her bones sung with loss.
They stand their together, never knowing how high their arms reach and stretch, thinking they could reach the impossible if only they could go a little further, hands flitter at the frayed corners of it, and they know the feel of it, and it feels like dreams and hope.
And they go even further, as if they might grow wings, before falling together in a pile, never truly knowing what the ocean at sunset tastes like, or how it feels to cradle a star. They know only the solidness of the dirty they sit upon, broken. The next closest thing for Elena, when she has fallen, in this moment is Moira.
And so she reaches.
If Moira is a wildfire only starting to burn, then Elena will be her sparks. She will burn brighter with her still. They will be so much more than glowing embers, more brilliant than quiet flames, and more wild than any inferno.
“How many others have you found on these mountains?” She asks in a voice like yellow flowers, shy and fragile and beautiful in a wild way. Drops her chin and glances away from her for a second so she can hold close a hidden the emotion that swirls to life in those silver blue eyes. This is not the first time she had been found. (A bridge, a forest, a cliff). Elena is always found, and maybe this is why she has never bothered to leave a trail to follow behind her. Maybe it is why she has always felt so free to wander. They always find her. Moira found her, after all.
She thinks sometimes about life, and what it might have been like to be someone else.
She would have liked to have been artist, she thinks. Who traveled the world and painted. Who sought only quiet landscapes, imposing mountains, eager rivers, vast oceans, and shy flowers.
Not boys who broke her heart.
Moonlight glitters and dances across both of them. In the right light, a strange sort of wildness is caught in them. Eyes like early morning frost watch in awe as the stars find them, when the phoenix brings them. Cracks open a window to her past where, for just an instant, she can glimpse things she does not want to be reminded of tonight.
It feels like a fist buried in her chest, fingers spread to capture the heart within, to crush it or maim it or, perhaps, just to watch and wonder how such a wretched, mangled thing still finds the will to beat. Her mouth opened, a question ready, then closed. “Starlight is only as far as you let it be.” Elena takes her words quietly, they are scribbled on a piece of paper. One day she will find it at the bottom of her pocket and remember something she should have known all along.
Her confession is enough for Elena to walk through the stars to the girl. She reaches out with a golden face that nearly touches her own, but she holds back a moment. “We should never get so attached to such pretty things.” She admits. “Maybe, together, we can hold it,” she says quietly, there is shards of fragmented hope in her breath. “The starlight, the ocean, we can hold onto it all.” And she thinks of something she had once told Lilli another night, another place surrounded by mountains and night sky. “Make believe is so much easier in the night,” she says. “We can make believe until the sun rises.” Make believe until their hearts burst with promise, until the sun sends it scattering.
“It will be something good tonight. We can be happy, Gioia.”
She thought of it until her heart ached, until her bones sung with loss.
They stand their together, never knowing how high their arms reach and stretch, thinking they could reach the impossible if only they could go a little further, hands flitter at the frayed corners of it, and they know the feel of it, and it feels like dreams and hope.
And they go even further, as if they might grow wings, before falling together in a pile, never truly knowing what the ocean at sunset tastes like, or how it feels to cradle a star. They know only the solidness of the dirty they sit upon, broken. The next closest thing for Elena, when she has fallen, in this moment is Moira.
And so she reaches.
If Moira is a wildfire only starting to burn, then Elena will be her sparks. She will burn brighter with her still. They will be so much more than glowing embers, more brilliant than quiet flames, and more wild than any inferno.
“How many others have you found on these mountains?” She asks in a voice like yellow flowers, shy and fragile and beautiful in a wild way. Drops her chin and glances away from her for a second so she can hold close a hidden the emotion that swirls to life in those silver blue eyes. This is not the first time she had been found. (A bridge, a forest, a cliff). Elena is always found, and maybe this is why she has never bothered to leave a trail to follow behind her. Maybe it is why she has always felt so free to wander. They always find her. Moira found her, after all.
She thinks sometimes about life, and what it might have been like to be someone else.
She would have liked to have been artist, she thinks. Who traveled the world and painted. Who sought only quiet landscapes, imposing mountains, eager rivers, vast oceans, and shy flowers.
Not boys who broke her heart.
Moonlight glitters and dances across both of them. In the right light, a strange sort of wildness is caught in them. Eyes like early morning frost watch in awe as the stars find them, when the phoenix brings them. Cracks open a window to her past where, for just an instant, she can glimpse things she does not want to be reminded of tonight.
It feels like a fist buried in her chest, fingers spread to capture the heart within, to crush it or maim it or, perhaps, just to watch and wonder how such a wretched, mangled thing still finds the will to beat. Her mouth opened, a question ready, then closed. “Starlight is only as far as you let it be.” Elena takes her words quietly, they are scribbled on a piece of paper. One day she will find it at the bottom of her pocket and remember something she should have known all along.
Her confession is enough for Elena to walk through the stars to the girl. She reaches out with a golden face that nearly touches her own, but she holds back a moment. “We should never get so attached to such pretty things.” She admits. “Maybe, together, we can hold it,” she says quietly, there is shards of fragmented hope in her breath. “The starlight, the ocean, we can hold onto it all.” And she thinks of something she had once told Lilli another night, another place surrounded by mountains and night sky. “Make believe is so much easier in the night,” she says. “We can make believe until the sun rises.” Make believe until their hearts burst with promise, until the sun sends it scattering.
“It will be something good tonight. We can be happy, Gioia.”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@
![[Image: ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db...0iFb4PvyXE]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8026a53b-dc57-41ab-b574-9f8a8fe57ce4/ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db0780.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzgwMjZhNTNiLWRjNTctNDFhYi1iNTc0LTlmOGE4ZmU1N2NlNFwvZGR2b3R3ZS01OTMwMmJhNi02YTgxLTQ3YmYtOTg0Ni0zMGM1YTVkYjA3ODAucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.ujCJH7FAbsQhfZlQniMmEd_vw-VmvaTDn0iFb4PvyXE)
let's light this house on fire
we'll dance in the warmth of its blaze
pixel made by the amazing star
