Wheeling Gull Isle vaucha

no tears still, but he felt a fracture in his own heart and could not imagine how it pained her. to have faces she knew and perhaps loved there, but to not have loved being there.

not every place is forever, but they can still mean something along the way. he whispered softly. mindful of her still tenderness. he imagined she would be raw in the heart for some time, even if she seemed to embrace a new shift in her life.

but now it was his time to feel exposed. raw. burdened by the memory of himself. how terrible to be repulsed by his own self.

yes. his features fell, gold eyes peering at a place big enough to lay. somewhere he had slept once upon a time. i stayed here in the dark, literally, for some time. as if God might not be able to see me in the dark. he laughed bitterly but hushed. then i left the island in the night, trudged along the mountains. self-imposed punishment, i suppose.