03-22-2018, 02:02 AM
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
One more time. Then one more.
Always praying that it would leave us with a sweet aftertaste, a contentedness, something that could hear "goodbye" without shattering. But it's that sweet taste, that idea that just maybe we could have it again, that keeps me coming back. Only then the sweet taste turned sour - but still we hoped for it. Still, I came to be held in his embrace.
"I'm -- I'm in labour --" My face contorts, and I stumble into him, leaning into the curve of his golden body. Still, still I reach for him to comfort me. Because god knows he will.
The contraction passes, and I pull back, voice desperate, higher than usual. "Rapt, there's something else."
How the fuck am I supposed to say this. Say that the child we hadn't intended to create would now, today, come to kill me. That because of our impulses we have destroyed my life - not just destroyed, but ended, too. I want to smile, for the last sight he has of me is a happy one, but I can't - I can't - I can't -
"I - I need you to give birth for me." The words fall bluntly, without warning, a kind of storm that takes you all at once to a place you never knew existed. My eyes swim wetly, hating that after all the ways I've manipulated him, I've yet another favour to ask.
To demand.
"I'll die if I give birth to our child, Rapt," I tilt my head, reach for him, beg him to reach out for me too. But my face contorts again, and my knees buckle; I don't sink down, but one of these times, I will.
"Please... There isn't much time."
Always praying that it would leave us with a sweet aftertaste, a contentedness, something that could hear "goodbye" without shattering. But it's that sweet taste, that idea that just maybe we could have it again, that keeps me coming back. Only then the sweet taste turned sour - but still we hoped for it. Still, I came to be held in his embrace.
"I'm -- I'm in labour --" My face contorts, and I stumble into him, leaning into the curve of his golden body. Still, still I reach for him to comfort me. Because god knows he will.
The contraction passes, and I pull back, voice desperate, higher than usual. "Rapt, there's something else."
How the fuck am I supposed to say this. Say that the child we hadn't intended to create would now, today, come to kill me. That because of our impulses we have destroyed my life - not just destroyed, but ended, too. I want to smile, for the last sight he has of me is a happy one, but I can't - I can't - I can't -
"I - I need you to give birth for me." The words fall bluntly, without warning, a kind of storm that takes you all at once to a place you never knew existed. My eyes swim wetly, hating that after all the ways I've manipulated him, I've yet another favour to ask.
To demand.
"I'll die if I give birth to our child, Rapt," I tilt my head, reach for him, beg him to reach out for me too. But my face contorts again, and my knees buckle; I don't sink down, but one of these times, I will.
"Please... There isn't much time."
Kagerus
sweet nothing
@[rapt]
![[Image: kag]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e8039018ce4dff6112c167ec23e886a/tumblr_p72zjit7wC1s5a0qvo1_100.png)
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