05-26-2016, 02:43 PM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
He doesn't speak because the words do not come to him as freely as they pass from one feminine voice to another. He does not speak because part of him is unsure of the tangibility of this meeting, was any of it ever real? A wordless, motionless being he becomes in their presence and he does not begrudge her the closeness of the other, for he would not pretend to be untouched by the love of someone else.
Always he said, and always he meant though as the days and months passed he no longer knew how close always was, nor how long. Once he thought that always meant forever, that always meant today yet he had been shown otherwise. Sometimes always meant tomorrow, sometimes it meant never and even still, sometimes always was goodbye. He wouldn’t say it though, he never did, not one single time when they had turned and left him alone and wanting. Goodbye was too indefinite and concrete. And why should he say it when he was already suffocating at their departure on the air he had not spent?
When she speaks she could break him, send his body buckling inward with the damage her voice inflicts and part of him wants her to- if it is easier.
You’re different, she calls and he knows he is. He knows that the Chamber has changed him, has made and unmade him thousands of countless times and mostly without his knowledge or consent. He knows that he burns now, burns unlike the silver woman that speaks between them, that flashes with the light of the sky as he finds his voice. The other smells like the world, like light everlasting and electricity. She smells like he doesn’t want to know her scent but as with trainwrecks go he simply can not look away, it draws and calls him all the same.
Finally the words fall heavy from his charcoal lips, “You are the same.”
Always he said, and always he meant though as the days and months passed he no longer knew how close always was, nor how long. Once he thought that always meant forever, that always meant today yet he had been shown otherwise. Sometimes always meant tomorrow, sometimes it meant never and even still, sometimes always was goodbye. He wouldn’t say it though, he never did, not one single time when they had turned and left him alone and wanting. Goodbye was too indefinite and concrete. And why should he say it when he was already suffocating at their departure on the air he had not spent?
When she speaks she could break him, send his body buckling inward with the damage her voice inflicts and part of him wants her to- if it is easier.
You’re different, she calls and he knows he is. He knows that the Chamber has changed him, has made and unmade him thousands of countless times and mostly without his knowledge or consent. He knows that he burns now, burns unlike the silver woman that speaks between them, that flashes with the light of the sky as he finds his voice. The other smells like the world, like light everlasting and electricity. She smells like he doesn’t want to know her scent but as with trainwrecks go he simply can not look away, it draws and calls him all the same.
Finally the words fall heavy from his charcoal lips, “You are the same.”
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
