The King decided it was time to rule no longer. He cast aside his crown, dropped his royal cape to the floor and kicked it away with a huff. What one person could think themselves of sound enough mind to rule the many? Who could be in such a position of power, and think by some miracle it would fail to corrupt their heart?
The King went down, down, down the stairs to the dungeon, where his previous life slumbered. He undid his weapon belt, tacky as it was, and tossed it aside along with the accompanying jeweled sword. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, and opened the door to the room he had all but forgotten.
There, upon a table of stone, lay a weapon of a life long gone. The King’s mouth became a thin line, and he grabbed the spatula, shaking off the dust and wielding it with practiced ease.
“It’s time,” he said, blue eyes burning as brightly as an ocean at dawn.
Elliot walked along the river of full bloom flowers, pulling his bookbag tightly against his shoulders. He smelled the air, wondering when the breeze had become so filled with nostalgia. He figured there must be a storm on the horizon, promising sweet evenings trapped inside with nothing better to do than watch water war with windowsill.
He didn’t so much rush home, as he did travel the exact pace necessary to appease fate. Whatever is, is. Whatever will be, will be. These two thoughts cascaded outward from his left foot and his right, respectively, as they fell upon the sidewalk.
Bart brushed the dust off his boots,
tsk-ing as the barkeep came around with his beverage.
“One for the night,” the bartender began.
“Another for the mother,” Bart finished.
It didn’t make sense, but neither of them cared much. It was something to say. The space became filled all the same, the pints emptied all the same.
Garret came around, and the two eventually got up to no good.
Soon, they were out on the dance floor, showing off to all of the bar-goers. They were widely known as having the best moves three towns wide, and played off of each other with a grace that could only be described as water on wind.
Sweat dripped over stubble, and as the beat tampered out, the two took off their hats and hooked arms, fanning each other off. This partially cooled them while also signifying that they were relinquishing the dance floor for the time being, should any be daring enough to challenge their reign.
The cheers didn’t relent until the two sat. It was another perfect, golden night.
She is the most beautiful, surprising blessing I’ve ever encountered in my life. Hearing her laugh, talking about nothing and everything with her, sharing such a deep and endless fount of love between us…it’s all more than I could have ever hoped for.
I don’t know that I deserve someone so perfect in every single way. But I do know that I’ll be the best and brightest version of myself until the day I die–because with her at my side, there isn’t any other way to live.
We could feel
the crumbling edges of time
begging for full demise
unable to reply.
My bones speak to me
simply because I listen.
They sell small tales
of growing up, up, up
from valleys vast
Sails, cast aloft
sails, weighing heavy
sails, catching song
the ocean’s middle name.