haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
He moves with her (two children swung together by the current of time and chance) and she can’t help but feel even more drawn to him. He sings to a piece of her she cannot identify. Yet that corner of her personality is a huge anchor in who she is — it is her constant thirst for discovery, it is her easy-boredom, it is the way she is drawn to the puzzle that he is.
Khaedrik is someone she is unable to figure out and it tugs on the adventurous side of her so stubbornly that he might be the one to perplex Wishbone for the entirety of her life.
He is honest — encouraged by the cleansing rain of her laughter and the metaphorical light she dazzles him with — so she listens for once. The words that fall choppily from his mouth are laced with hidden fears (things she cannot even begin to put together for the simple reason that she could not even fathom them in her imagination).
She is quiet for a moment, sunset eyes searching his charcoal face. “I’ve never heard someone who’s crazy call themselves out for their insanity.” Her voice isn’t condescending but it is simple and pure. While his eyes might be sewn tight shut against the world, Wishbone keeps hers wide. She isn’t afraid of the gnashing teeth in the shadows or the skinny, decaying fingers that might cling to her heels.
Wishbone has always been a guns-blazing type of girl. It’s woven into the very fiber of her being. It’s as much a piece of her as the mahogany of her skin or her parents’ blood in her vessels. “But if you can’t face your demons, I’ll face them for you.”
Khaedrik is someone she is unable to figure out and it tugs on the adventurous side of her so stubbornly that he might be the one to perplex Wishbone for the entirety of her life.
He is honest — encouraged by the cleansing rain of her laughter and the metaphorical light she dazzles him with — so she listens for once. The words that fall choppily from his mouth are laced with hidden fears (things she cannot even begin to put together for the simple reason that she could not even fathom them in her imagination).
She is quiet for a moment, sunset eyes searching his charcoal face. “I’ve never heard someone who’s crazy call themselves out for their insanity.” Her voice isn’t condescending but it is simple and pure. While his eyes might be sewn tight shut against the world, Wishbone keeps hers wide. She isn’t afraid of the gnashing teeth in the shadows or the skinny, decaying fingers that might cling to her heels.
Wishbone has always been a guns-blazing type of girl. It’s woven into the very fiber of her being. It’s as much a piece of her as the mahogany of her skin or her parents’ blood in her vessels. “But if you can’t face your demons, I’ll face them for you.”
@[Khaedrik] sorry this took me literally years :|