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02-22-2016, 04:09 AM
I have loved so hard
that it broke my heart—
Eyes cast aside as she questions his statement. Her gaze strips him of any semblance of mask he wished to wear to hide the shadows (the anger) that grew and lurked within him. But there is something freeing in the night; as if the shadows of the evening can replace the masks we wear. Or, at least, the darkness lulls us to believe such fallacies, only to lure out whatever repressed motives and desires lurk and allow them to flourish in the night. Shadows can only hide so much…
So, hide rippling as dew droplets tickled in their yielding to gravity, he looks up to the celestial mare. She seems so ephemeral in the mists, almost unreal with her lilting words and hopeful eyes. So opposite the harsh reality that storms inside the Elephant. “Does one get tired of counting breaths?” he repeats her question, his voice growing stronger and rougher, “Perhaps my own. But there are some breaths I still wish I could be counting,” his vague answer carries a weight, masking slipping further. “Once, I wished to love— once I wished to ‘soar,’ as you put it,” his voice gains an edge, some anger leaking from his darkness, “But now, now that I have plummeted twice from the heights of devotion, I find it less alluring.” Does that me me a coward?” His anger flared in response to his thought; he was no coward. He was a man bent by betrayal of someone who looked like Mara, someone who had held a whisper in his chest.
But no longer. Attempting to subdue his burgeoning vexation, he turned a question to Katerina, “Do you? Do you seek these things?” His hide was taunt over angrily flexed muscles.
So, hide rippling as dew droplets tickled in their yielding to gravity, he looks up to the celestial mare. She seems so ephemeral in the mists, almost unreal with her lilting words and hopeful eyes. So opposite the harsh reality that storms inside the Elephant. “Does one get tired of counting breaths?” he repeats her question, his voice growing stronger and rougher, “Perhaps my own. But there are some breaths I still wish I could be counting,” his vague answer carries a weight, masking slipping further. “Once, I wished to love— once I wished to ‘soar,’ as you put it,” his voice gains an edge, some anger leaking from his darkness, “But now, now that I have plummeted twice from the heights of devotion, I find it less alluring.” Does that me me a coward?” His anger flared in response to his thought; he was no coward. He was a man bent by betrayal of someone who looked like Mara, someone who had held a whisper in his chest.
But no longer. Attempting to subdue his burgeoning vexation, he turned a question to Katerina, “Do you? Do you seek these things?” His hide was taunt over angrily flexed muscles.
—only to build me up
stronger again.
tembovu
@Katerina
Please tag Tembovu.
