Swiftcurrent Creek ανύψωση

she washed him away.

he wallowed her away.

he remembered the dark woman and how it had felt much the same. only he had departed once she had found slumber in the wake of things. the earth cradled him, so far from heaven. how quick he had relapsed, how quick he had fallen into a trap of sweet honey once more.

he wept while she was away, stifled by a pride that could not handle the mere thought of all of...this.

she soon enough returned, as delicately preened as he might expect from such a unique woman. the cry of her companion overhead. he felt it in his own heart even if the reasons were far different. how desperately he wish he better spoke her language.

as if it was any importance at all to tell her more, to tell him what he wished for. perhaps she might half-heartedly understand if he...attempted.

ρυάκι, he echoed to her from hours before. but...big. the sea. perhaps she would know that word, the sea like her own name.

an island.

he wished to cry in the furs of andrés, of dove, of abraham, of anyone who had ever seemed to slightly understand him.