and bury it before it buries me
“You say that as though destruction is so easy to reverse,” Heartfire had said to her once. “Some things cannot be undone.”
Some things cannot be undone—oh how Elena knows—oh how Elena wishes it were not true.
That steady, searching look of his should not cause such a fluttering in her belly, such a tightening. But it does and she finds that it leaves her just a little breathless. She cannot bear to ask him, cannot bear for him to know all the ways that she has broken along the craggy rocks of empty love before—giving her heart to a man who would never have picked her first. Giving her heart to a man who had turned from her and warmed his bed with another while proclaiming all he needed was his faith. She had never been enough.
It almost causes the breath in her throat to catch, all of the ghosts crawling out and into her flesh, but his voice banishes them, opening the windows wide and letting the light pour in. At his voice, her heart leaps into her throat, and she closed her eyes against the shocking power of it. She tilts her chin up to him, watching the shadows cross his features, he is shimmering beneath the light this strange island offers. He is beautiful, she thinks, but it feels foolish to tell him this. It feels foolish to tell him that she feels more whole in his presence than she has in years, that he somehow manages to beat back her demons.
It feels foolish to admit this aloud.
His heart crumbles with hers inside her chest, feels the shattering, the splintering, but there is something else buried beneath their skin, and Elena feels brave enough to bring Elliana and herself forward. She was wildfires and ocean storms. He was stardust and twilight dreaming. Her eyes close once she is close enough to him, close enough to press herself into his side, she closes them long enough for seconds to bleed into years and eons, long enough for worlds to be born and die again, and only then do they open a million moments that somehow feel enough to fill an entire lifetime have passed by.
He says her daughter’s name and Elena cannot suppress any of the happiness that hits her golden face like morning sunlight. It feels so right coming from his lips. She would survive if he never spoke her name again, but she thinks she could not bare it if Elli’s name was not one he would hold. Elliana reaches forward and presses a heart kissed brow into his strong leg. A greeting for one who does not yet know words, but already knows how to trust and how to love. He wraps Elliana in a hold that father’s have given daughters since the beginning. Elliana knows nothing but her golden mother and this man that smells like stars, that tastes like dreams when she presses her lips into his skin.
She dreamt of him. So much. How many nights had she thought of this exact smell? How many times had she gone to sleep with his phantom touch, the warmth of his body pressed up against hers? It had been so pleasant; so unspeakably perfect. But each morning she had woken up and realized none of it had been real.
But now, now she could feel him. She wanted to curl up against him, but she did not feel like she could touch him. She wanted to whisper his name tell him how much she had missed him, how much she had thought about him, but the words were clogged in her throat, her tongue cemented in her mouth. She was underwater and she couldn’t breathe
And then she cannot hold herself anymore and Elena presses her own brow into the shed-star’s shoulder. “Azrael,” his name escapes her again, whispered like a confession into him. The emotions rise within her, confused and muddled and beautiful, and she struggles to pick them apart, to understand how quickly he has made her come undone. She asks something, and it is the kind of question she doesn’t really want answered, the kind of answer she supposes does not exist. But the lonely in her asks anyway. “Do you forgive me?”
She exhales softly.
Don’t break me, she wants to plea, but it is a silly, selfish thing to ask, so she folds it away. Instead, she just rests against him, inviting him into a glass home that has shattered so deftly before.
What has been destroyed cannot be reversed, Heartfire was right, but she can stand with her hand of sunlight pressed into his palm of stars and they can rebuild something more beautiful (like fire and dreams) across what has been broken.
Some things cannot be undone—oh how Elena knows—oh how Elena wishes it were not true.
That steady, searching look of his should not cause such a fluttering in her belly, such a tightening. But it does and she finds that it leaves her just a little breathless. She cannot bear to ask him, cannot bear for him to know all the ways that she has broken along the craggy rocks of empty love before—giving her heart to a man who would never have picked her first. Giving her heart to a man who had turned from her and warmed his bed with another while proclaiming all he needed was his faith. She had never been enough.
It almost causes the breath in her throat to catch, all of the ghosts crawling out and into her flesh, but his voice banishes them, opening the windows wide and letting the light pour in. At his voice, her heart leaps into her throat, and she closed her eyes against the shocking power of it. She tilts her chin up to him, watching the shadows cross his features, he is shimmering beneath the light this strange island offers. He is beautiful, she thinks, but it feels foolish to tell him this. It feels foolish to tell him that she feels more whole in his presence than she has in years, that he somehow manages to beat back her demons.
It feels foolish to admit this aloud.
His heart crumbles with hers inside her chest, feels the shattering, the splintering, but there is something else buried beneath their skin, and Elena feels brave enough to bring Elliana and herself forward. She was wildfires and ocean storms. He was stardust and twilight dreaming. Her eyes close once she is close enough to him, close enough to press herself into his side, she closes them long enough for seconds to bleed into years and eons, long enough for worlds to be born and die again, and only then do they open a million moments that somehow feel enough to fill an entire lifetime have passed by.
He says her daughter’s name and Elena cannot suppress any of the happiness that hits her golden face like morning sunlight. It feels so right coming from his lips. She would survive if he never spoke her name again, but she thinks she could not bare it if Elli’s name was not one he would hold. Elliana reaches forward and presses a heart kissed brow into his strong leg. A greeting for one who does not yet know words, but already knows how to trust and how to love. He wraps Elliana in a hold that father’s have given daughters since the beginning. Elliana knows nothing but her golden mother and this man that smells like stars, that tastes like dreams when she presses her lips into his skin.
She dreamt of him. So much. How many nights had she thought of this exact smell? How many times had she gone to sleep with his phantom touch, the warmth of his body pressed up against hers? It had been so pleasant; so unspeakably perfect. But each morning she had woken up and realized none of it had been real.
But now, now she could feel him. She wanted to curl up against him, but she did not feel like she could touch him. She wanted to whisper his name tell him how much she had missed him, how much she had thought about him, but the words were clogged in her throat, her tongue cemented in her mouth. She was underwater and she couldn’t breathe
And then she cannot hold herself anymore and Elena presses her own brow into the shed-star’s shoulder. “Azrael,” his name escapes her again, whispered like a confession into him. The emotions rise within her, confused and muddled and beautiful, and she struggles to pick them apart, to understand how quickly he has made her come undone. She asks something, and it is the kind of question she doesn’t really want answered, the kind of answer she supposes does not exist. But the lonely in her asks anyway. “Do you forgive me?”
She exhales softly.
Don’t break me, she wants to plea, but it is a silly, selfish thing to ask, so she folds it away. Instead, she just rests against him, inviting him into a glass home that has shattered so deftly before.
What has been destroyed cannot be reversed, Heartfire was right, but she can stand with her hand of sunlight pressed into his palm of stars and they can rebuild something more beautiful (like fire and dreams) across what has been broken.
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Azrael
![[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
