a king walks among us
He wonders if she hates him she hates him oh,, darkness, she hates him. He is too much violence wrapped up with too little thread. She is not the type of thing he is meant to be near oh no oh no she just is
n
o
t
the type of thing to be found in the type of life he has and leads and ends but the way she lifts his chin, no, it does not welcome a slap but her nose brushes softly against him, feather light and soft as the rest of her, this bird held between his fangs.
Everything she says is poetry to him, but he does not know if he is forgiven. He thinks so, maybe, perhaps. She is not frightened? He would ask but she is speaking again, telling him what he asked of her and the thread tightens around the bloody beating muscle and veins of violence. El Rey understands very little of her. El Rey wants more of her all the same.
It is then that a stranger shoves against them and he is suddenly and painfully aware of the world around them, the throng of bodies passing through the narrow road, market, noise, color - his lungs roll up flat and his eyes shiver, back and forth and back and forth where is there to go -
”Do you…do you know any place like that? A place like you…from where you…go...” Panic drags cold fingers down his everything and he tries to think about the softness of her everything instead but he cannot for much longer.
@
”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,
