but now we're sleeping at the edge, holding something we don't need
all this delusion in our heads is going to bring us to our knees
There is a darkness to him that hides underneath every fold of his voice, that shows prominently in the spaces between the breath. It is not the promise of a hidden kindness that draws her forward but rather the idea that his darkness could be endless, could be depthless. Could his cruelty cut like a knife? Did he turn it against himself only or could he lash out? What would it be like to have his teeth sink into her throat?
Not that she would let him, she thinks, and she hugs the idea of the starlight closer to her.
But it would be so interesting to watch him lunge for her.
She angles her pretty head, infinitely curious about the stallion in front of her and takes a step closer, not noticing that the gravity of her thoughts pull the stars in closer—bringing their light down into the atmosphere so that the area around them glows silver. “Is it really so similar for you?” she breathes, her voice too mature for her age, her almond eyes wide and innocent and knowing all at once. “Was your life so similar to your death or is this new version of it the most akin?” She doesn’t think twice about asking all of her questions, about pressing them into his skin as she and the light step in closer to his vicinity.
When he turns the question around on her, she smiles—quiet and small.
“I have so many,” she thinks, although they are utterly selfish. “I would uncover and hoard every secret in the world if I had enough time.” The dark ones, she thinks. The ones hidden the most.
“Do you have secrets that you would share with me?”
