There was a birch tree in the field; Misra

[Misra]

Misra

i'd go to hell and back with you; stay lost in what we've found.

  Where her dark mouth is pressed to the curve of his cheek, the salty brine of a single tear from his cloudy, sightless eyes traces her lips, and a swell of emotion rises in the hollow of her throat, rendering her breathless. Time (wrecked, relentless time) had etched its way into the sinewy muscle and bone of his once youthful features; the tender edge of youth no longer clutching onto his broad, masculine features.

  He has grown older, and she has, too. Long gone was the reckless, needlessly haughty self-preservation that had kept them apart - he, no longer feigning disdain, nor pushing her away, and she, no longer foolish enough to believe the carefully spoken lies that had kept her captive for so long, nor fearful of what her heart had been pining for all along.

  His words are a rumbling tremor, and his breath is warm against her cheek, and all she can do is press her forehead against the crease of his jawline, listening to the rhythmic thrumming of his rapidly pounding heart, echoing through his veins. Her own heart is aching; a pang of guilt pooling in the pit of her belly – she should have waited, she should have searched from one roaring ocean to the next, but she hadn’t – she had been consumed by grief; she had stifled her broken heart and grasped onto anything to keep her tethered as she helplessly drifted out to a sea of her own undoing.

  The guilt is growing, building, and then, a hushed whisper touches her ear: I love you, and she is unraveling. Her own dark, silvery cheek is soon stained with the saline of fallen tears, as her cheek presses against his own, burying herself into the tangled tresses that lay haphazardly along his neck.

  ”I wondered if I would ever see you again, Siberian,” she murmurs shakily (unknowingly speaking the very same words she had said to him years ago, upon finding him then), shame interlacing with her every word. ”I should have waited, I should have looked for you –“ Her mumbling weakens, then, to a mere shaky whisper. ”I am such a fool.”

  She presses her lips to his jaw again, and then to his cheek as her four, languid legs step back, her doe eyes searching the dark plane of his features. Finally, her lips press against the corner of his mouth, letting him feel the tender words reverberate against his skin. ”And I love you.”

worlds apart, we were the same until we hit the ground.