and bury it before it buries me
Elena had felt love when she had been born, and then almost just as quickly, she had known the confusion that life forces on all its children. (Confusion at why her mother’s body was failing her, confusion at why the soldiers came home battered and broken. Confusion why they had to leave, Daddy and her, but everyone else was staying behind.) It is a confusion that lingers, despite answers. There are too many answers, all thrown at once into a sea of uncertainty. She had been swallowed by that sea, one small, lost soul in the midst of hundreds, thousands of others. And it takes her time to surface. It takes her time to surface, because she cannot swim on her own, not when when the first time she had gone to the lake had been with her mother and father, ready to bring her to the surface, dressed in sparkling water drops.
There is something in her that is attracted to the ones that have something sad in their smile. (If only she could bury her light beside their hearts in the quiet of theirs chests, maybe it would help.) But his smile still comes to her, no matter the slow settling it takes, the last leaf of fall. And she is so quick to have her soft smile curve on her features, like lilies. “They are perfect,” she says excitedly, those blue eyes brighten. Perhaps it is a foolish love, a love for children. “I have always quite enjoyed finding new flowers, old ones too.” She shines like the sun underneath Po’s offering. She has not found much time to converse about flowers since arriving in Novus, not in any way as unburdened as this.
The sky was light, small flicks of clouds drifted peacefully through the atmosphere as birds looked almost like dots soaring overhead. “How did you come about to have such a crown fit for a king?” She asks with quick laughter, unaware of just how fit that crown truly was. Elena thinks of the King of Dawn in castle, roving over books, not sleeping in a meadow. But, she decides, here and now he is a king in his own right. King of the Flowers. A worthy, honorable title in Elena’s blue blue eyes.
“I knew a Po once, an owl, I guess Carpo was his name,” she says, recalling the creature she had helped Jay and Orani care for. “I’m still quite new, I arrived just at the closing of Winter, but I enjoy it,” she says. She wonders how she has lived this long away from the sea, because she can still smell the salt on her skin and it feels like home. “Stop by sometime,” she offers him. “I can always use some flowers,” she says, offers, a reason to come because sometimes just desire is not enough.
A beat.
She cant helps but look carefully at his beautiful face, rosy eyes.
“May I remark something?” She asks him with that politeness that had been so instilled in her from a young age. “There’s something quieting about you, Po.” She says, tilting that pretty head to the side. “I think it must be a blessing to have you as a friend.”
There is something in her that is attracted to the ones that have something sad in their smile. (If only she could bury her light beside their hearts in the quiet of theirs chests, maybe it would help.) But his smile still comes to her, no matter the slow settling it takes, the last leaf of fall. And she is so quick to have her soft smile curve on her features, like lilies. “They are perfect,” she says excitedly, those blue eyes brighten. Perhaps it is a foolish love, a love for children. “I have always quite enjoyed finding new flowers, old ones too.” She shines like the sun underneath Po’s offering. She has not found much time to converse about flowers since arriving in Novus, not in any way as unburdened as this.
The sky was light, small flicks of clouds drifted peacefully through the atmosphere as birds looked almost like dots soaring overhead. “How did you come about to have such a crown fit for a king?” She asks with quick laughter, unaware of just how fit that crown truly was. Elena thinks of the King of Dawn in castle, roving over books, not sleeping in a meadow. But, she decides, here and now he is a king in his own right. King of the Flowers. A worthy, honorable title in Elena’s blue blue eyes.
“I knew a Po once, an owl, I guess Carpo was his name,” she says, recalling the creature she had helped Jay and Orani care for. “I’m still quite new, I arrived just at the closing of Winter, but I enjoy it,” she says. She wonders how she has lived this long away from the sea, because she can still smell the salt on her skin and it feels like home. “Stop by sometime,” she offers him. “I can always use some flowers,” she says, offers, a reason to come because sometimes just desire is not enough.
A beat.
She cant helps but look carefully at his beautiful face, rosy eyes.
“May I remark something?” She asks him with that politeness that had been so instilled in her from a young age. “There’s something quieting about you, Po.” She says, tilting that pretty head to the side. “I think it must be a blessing to have you as a friend.”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Ipomoea
![[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
