12-23-2018, 09:54 PM
living for the past
because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before.
Although she doesn’t regret leaving the familiar, Wishbone’s stomach gives a strange little twist as the smells of limestone and freshwater brooks grow stronger. Her mind is swimming, caught in a confusing hurricane of doubts and memories, and her throat is dry. Her slender mahogany hips turn away from Loess’s border more than once, but within a few steps, she is twisting again.
Wishbone is certain this is the closest she has come to fear.
Even while exploring uncharted waters.
Even while staring into the face of a pale, hairless creature.
Even while tasting the thin air from atop a mountain’s summit.
She wonders if this trip to Loess — neither political nor written with romantic whispers — will be a death sentence. Or perhaps it will be an open door. Wishbone’s heart nearly drops into the Earth’s core at the thought of reaching the border, yet the journey from Nerine to Loess is over in the blink of an eye.
Inhale.
It is shuddering and weak.
Exhale.
It is forceful and nervous.
Wishbone tucks herself along the spiky barbs of a cactus (perhaps to protect herself from the fright of the unknown that lies before her) and waits as patiently as her nerves will allow her. If he is here, he will know. She hopes that if he knows, he will come.
@[Wolfbane] / this is poopy, but it's here