05-01-2020, 02:06 PM
and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
Truthfully, Castile is surprised Sochi still stands before him.
There are opportunities to run, pauses and hesitations in their conversation that grants the seconds she needs to recede into the shadows. That would be her painful goodbye, her knife to sever what remains between them. It flashes across his eyes, the image of her backside as she abandons him, and he is startled by the emotion that chokes him in the false reality. He would force himself to stay behind and to accept her decision no matter how many pieces his heart shattered into. If that’s what she wants – truly wants – then there’s nothing he can do to stop her.
A sharp breath cuts the silence when Castile blinks and lifts his eyes to hers, reminding himself that she is here, still listening to him. The shadows have not yet reclaimed her, but it’s only a matter of time.
It’s like standing on a precarious edge when she speaks, his skin prickling like needles even when her voice softens. Corded muscles tighten when he clenches his jaws expectantly. ”I imagined it would be easier for you if I let go of everything, if I gave up and never found you again,” but that isn’t the promise he made on that fateful day in Loess. Even as dark cruelties eclipsed his better judgment, Castile still recognized how dear she was – is – to him, how unwilling he is to lose her forever. This is a battle that he has never before faced and he is far too stubborn to lose this early. There’s a kindling in Sochi’s eyes, a mirroring stubbornness, that keeps her rooted in place. There’s a reason she is still standing here, talking to him, applying the lightest balm to his gaping wounds. There is still a piece of her that cares, but he wonders if it’s enough to ever accept him back.
I just said that it can’t go back to what it was.
The reiteration cuts him, but Castile merely nods, accepting it. Somehow, his breathing remains steadily controlled, his body like a statue except for the occasional flutter of his locks when a breeze passes through. Her voice echoes inside him, the words being scrutinized and mulled over. Eventually, when it almost seems as though he will not say anything at all, Castile shifts his gaze from a nearby oak tree back to her face. ”I’m listening,” it was a weakness that he is strengthening, a change that he verbalizes as their eyes hold each other. ”Tell me what it is you want, what expectations you have,” he pauses to lick his chapped lips and to keep everything within him composed and checked, ”Tell me what you want… from me…” She didn’t tell him to let go or to stop loving her. She didn’t tell him to leave (yet) but she also didn’t say she still loves him.
Still standing – wobbling – on the cliff’s edge, Castile waits with bated breath whether he will fall or step safely away, whether his life will plunge into an abysmal hole forever.
There are opportunities to run, pauses and hesitations in their conversation that grants the seconds she needs to recede into the shadows. That would be her painful goodbye, her knife to sever what remains between them. It flashes across his eyes, the image of her backside as she abandons him, and he is startled by the emotion that chokes him in the false reality. He would force himself to stay behind and to accept her decision no matter how many pieces his heart shattered into. If that’s what she wants – truly wants – then there’s nothing he can do to stop her.
A sharp breath cuts the silence when Castile blinks and lifts his eyes to hers, reminding himself that she is here, still listening to him. The shadows have not yet reclaimed her, but it’s only a matter of time.
It’s like standing on a precarious edge when she speaks, his skin prickling like needles even when her voice softens. Corded muscles tighten when he clenches his jaws expectantly. ”I imagined it would be easier for you if I let go of everything, if I gave up and never found you again,” but that isn’t the promise he made on that fateful day in Loess. Even as dark cruelties eclipsed his better judgment, Castile still recognized how dear she was – is – to him, how unwilling he is to lose her forever. This is a battle that he has never before faced and he is far too stubborn to lose this early. There’s a kindling in Sochi’s eyes, a mirroring stubbornness, that keeps her rooted in place. There’s a reason she is still standing here, talking to him, applying the lightest balm to his gaping wounds. There is still a piece of her that cares, but he wonders if it’s enough to ever accept him back.
I just said that it can’t go back to what it was.
The reiteration cuts him, but Castile merely nods, accepting it. Somehow, his breathing remains steadily controlled, his body like a statue except for the occasional flutter of his locks when a breeze passes through. Her voice echoes inside him, the words being scrutinized and mulled over. Eventually, when it almost seems as though he will not say anything at all, Castile shifts his gaze from a nearby oak tree back to her face. ”I’m listening,” it was a weakness that he is strengthening, a change that he verbalizes as their eyes hold each other. ”Tell me what it is you want, what expectations you have,” he pauses to lick his chapped lips and to keep everything within him composed and checked, ”Tell me what you want… from me…” She didn’t tell him to let go or to stop loving her. She didn’t tell him to leave (yet) but she also didn’t say she still loves him.
Still standing – wobbling – on the cliff’s edge, Castile waits with bated breath whether he will fall or step safely away, whether his life will plunge into an abysmal hole forever.
castile
@[sochi]
congrats on your baby!