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I swallowed a violin that morning, and its notes stung my mouth with aggressive highs and lows.

After taking the initial approach, my feet like decorated fouls, and my movement, in its awkward yet intending enthusiasm rather like the cautious, repulsive fluttering of a young insect, I found the source of the noise.  At the time, I had been lost in the sound’s obsequious strings, which I figured to be complementary only to myself. I had shaken with poetic rebellion against the warm sun that threatened to die at my bare shoulder, and the feeling had been both precise and surreal.  I’m not sure how long it took before I realized I was full, but by then my hands had already found the musician.  

His eyes had widened in pretty surprise at my touch, and the deepening of color that had resulted had left his face glowing something wonderful. The unshaven edge to his jaw, with its endowment of fine red hair that spoke of forgetfulness more than anything else, was tempting in a way I still cannot describe; my fingers played for only an idle moment at his neck before I bowed my lips to his.

My dreams that night were of red ribbons and nostalgic flowers dying in a line against the sky. I was warm, and my breath light in the shadow of his. I fell in love with the contradiction at once, and upon discovering such affection pressed closer to the subtly masculine curve of his body. When my eyes opened to green slits, my lashes forming black curls that brushed against the boy musician like dead angels’ locks, envy struck my heart; my feelings rose and fell like a suffocating jalousie whose sugary core threatened to permanently sink if I did not subdue it at once, and it was then that I realized that I wished I could be as perfectly still as the sleeping man beside me. It was a strange sort of jealousy, a fault that I put on him but forgave rather quickly nonetheless.

                                             I was kind then.

                                             And innocuous like cancer is still cancer.

                                             A true woman of my time.
:iconour-pretentious-fall:

Author's Comments

Violent Error?


- Character of mine
- Kudos to anyone who can correctly guess who
- This may only be Part I

Please do not reproduce this text in any way without my permission.

Comments


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:iconour-pretentious-fall:
:3

--
They danced on their toes.
:iconwounded-cabaret:
I don't know who it is, but the writing is absolutely fantastic, as always.

<3 You're amazing.


--
it was so real,
it was just so real.
:iconour-pretentious-fall:
No idea at all? Oh boo.

:3

It's a fun one.

And thank you.


--
They danced on their toes.
:icondrinnen:
I ONLY KNOW YNNINT. D:
XD

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( But that's not all. )
:iconour-pretentious-fall:
Ah ha ha...

Not her, and you know more than you think.

I left bunches of little clues.


--
They danced on their toes.

Details

July 4
2.9 KB

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