and bury it before it buries me
History echoes. She knows this. God, but she knows this. (Or, more crassly – history is doomed to repeat itself.)
Repetition is nothing new to her, the cyclical nature of her life. Once, she lived for those cycles, for the best parts of them – the parts when they came together. Those brief instances before someone left. Circles are broken, though, spilling bones and hearts into the river. Elena is left to replay memories until they are worn thin (translucent). Well loved, but worn just the same.
The man looks at her in a way that leaves Elena unsteady. Adrift in a sea of thought with no lighthouse guiding her home. It’s a weighted one, and Elena is unused to being looked at in such a way. “Are you alright?” There is a part of her, a selfish part of her, that hopes he isn't because, perhaps, they could be not alright together. She wonders if he knows just how magnificent he is. He is like a flower in full bloom, like the richest of the Dusk gardens. The correlation brings a gentle smile to her face—turning the corners of her lips upward into a hazy sort of smile.
Lilliana had once asked her why everything had to be so complicated.
Why did it?
Suddenly she cant think all that straight. She isn't sure why her heart is stuttering in her chest. There is one glorious moment then, where her grief breaks, shattering to the ground leaving only fragments of freedom. She knows it will return, it always does, but for now, Elena is placated in the brilliant gold of Michael’s presence and the cresting and rolling company of the ocean.
Blue eyes follow that same scuttling crab that moves across the sand with such determination and purpose, Elena thinks it has probably never questioned itself, that it has probably never considered anything more than sand and sea. What a life that would be to live now.
“It can be scary to go alone,” she offers him. It is his words that had lured her back and made her realize that their time together was fleeting and coming to an end with every syllable she speaks. “Can you visit the ocean again sometime, Michael?” She asks, a question to mask a plea. Her voice silvery, light, and low. Elena turns to him with blue eyes that cannot hide the hope she feels.
It is with a heavy heart then that she forces herself away from him, away from the waves, away from the sand. “Please, come back.” Is all she offers him before she turns to take the becoming ever more familiar path back to Terrastella.
Repetition is nothing new to her, the cyclical nature of her life. Once, she lived for those cycles, for the best parts of them – the parts when they came together. Those brief instances before someone left. Circles are broken, though, spilling bones and hearts into the river. Elena is left to replay memories until they are worn thin (translucent). Well loved, but worn just the same.
The man looks at her in a way that leaves Elena unsteady. Adrift in a sea of thought with no lighthouse guiding her home. It’s a weighted one, and Elena is unused to being looked at in such a way. “Are you alright?” There is a part of her, a selfish part of her, that hopes he isn't because, perhaps, they could be not alright together. She wonders if he knows just how magnificent he is. He is like a flower in full bloom, like the richest of the Dusk gardens. The correlation brings a gentle smile to her face—turning the corners of her lips upward into a hazy sort of smile.
Lilliana had once asked her why everything had to be so complicated.
Why did it?
Suddenly she cant think all that straight. She isn't sure why her heart is stuttering in her chest. There is one glorious moment then, where her grief breaks, shattering to the ground leaving only fragments of freedom. She knows it will return, it always does, but for now, Elena is placated in the brilliant gold of Michael’s presence and the cresting and rolling company of the ocean.
Blue eyes follow that same scuttling crab that moves across the sand with such determination and purpose, Elena thinks it has probably never questioned itself, that it has probably never considered anything more than sand and sea. What a life that would be to live now.
“It can be scary to go alone,” she offers him. It is his words that had lured her back and made her realize that their time together was fleeting and coming to an end with every syllable she speaks. “Can you visit the ocean again sometime, Michael?” She asks, a question to mask a plea. Her voice silvery, light, and low. Elena turns to him with blue eyes that cannot hide the hope she feels.
It is with a heavy heart then that she forces herself away from him, away from the waves, away from the sand. “Please, come back.” Is all she offers him before she turns to take the becoming ever more familiar path back to Terrastella.
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
