05-29-2016, 02:05 AM
KINGSLAY
It left the girl.
It had too.
It forgot the galaxies that lay between the fractures of her irises, because it had too, because it was the way that evolution worked – forgetting the weakest parts of yourself in lieu of something bigger, in lieu of survival.
So, it left the girl.
It survived, forgot the way that her pulse felt in his throat, and the way her hips looked when they disappeared into the horizon. It survived, forgetting the way her tongue would curl around the syllables of his – it’s – name.
It had too.
Instead, it remembers the roots.
It remembers the way that they spiraled through the cracks of it’s ribs; held the bones and threatened to break them. It remembers the sound a slice can make. It remembers blood spilling, pooling. It remembers red rain, and how it felt warm against the soot and ash of his skin.
It remembers most things, except her.
It remembers as much as it can.
It had too.
It forgot the galaxies that lay between the fractures of her irises, because it had too, because it was the way that evolution worked – forgetting the weakest parts of yourself in lieu of something bigger, in lieu of survival.
So, it left the girl.
It survived, forgot the way that her pulse felt in his throat, and the way her hips looked when they disappeared into the horizon. It survived, forgetting the way her tongue would curl around the syllables of his – it’s – name.
It had too.
Instead, it remembers the roots.
It remembers the way that they spiraled through the cracks of it’s ribs; held the bones and threatened to break them. It remembers the sound a slice can make. It remembers blood spilling, pooling. It remembers red rain, and how it felt warm against the soot and ash of his skin.
It remembers most things, except her.
It remembers as much as it can.
And so, he made the Gods themselves bend at the knee.