#ithasme

[unfreak-blog1]

  @ithasme

    peeks in.

[unfreak-blog1]

♥. crying

   @ithasme

heat of the house beckon him in,   clutching his exposed forearms and uncovered face,   tempting him with promises of only comfort away from the dipping temperatures of late autumn.  and it’s there after he shuts the door do the sounds of sobs echo through the halls.     it’s familiar.    a cadence he’s heard many times before but bearing a sad tune.       

‘   violet ?   ‘     he quickens his pace,   dipping his head through vacant rooms in a pressing rush.    this isn’t good  -   that doesn’t sound good.    then he sees her at the edge of his bed with melancholy as her only companion.  shadows sprout from her body,  her frame comparatively smaller,   and he’s drawn at her side by pulled strings connected through their chests.

‘   hey  !     violet   ..   ‘    ache at the sight of her,  how his heart saddens.     ‘    what’s wrong ?    ‘      her head’s turned away,  dirty blonde tresses curtaining most of her face.    a hand cups the bone of her elbow as the other brings him close like a safety blanket,  provide comfort and solace as he’s draped over her back in a soft and warm embrace.      ‘   what’s the matter,  vi  ?   ‘   

[unfreak-blog1]

♝. reading together

    @ithasme

light sheathes them.   a lamp sits on a nightstand beside his bed and it thrusts away the shadows of the room,   the shadows that slowly creep with night on the way.    a book splayed open sits on his lap,   its pages barren of paragraphed words excluding inked illustrations and stanzas of poetry.   jimmy sits,  opposite to violet whose cushioned by jimmy’s pillows and carried by the bed’s wooden backrest.     the silence that flows between them solidifies with seconds evolving to minutes evolving to hours,   occasionally jimmy strips his focus from his book to glance at her,   not realizing violet has done the same three times earlier.

she’s her own book at hand,   slim fingers bookmarking its pages when a comment dove them both into a discussion.

he laughs,   reeling back and straightening the curve of his slouched shoulders.    ‘  i swear !   i’m not kiddin’ !     i swear,   okay ?   ma always used ta read this book t’ me ever since i was a kid and i always read it whenever she was too busy.   i guess —-  i guess it stuck.     here,  try me,   ‘     leans forward,  pushing his own book closer to her. 

a moment of sewn composure and he speaks.  his chin raises,  eyes moving fixated on nothing in particular as though he’s reciting the book’s etched out words translated in the air.

 ‘          Because I could not stop for Death –            He kindly stopped for me –            The Carriage held but just Ourselves –            And Immortality.           We slowly drove –           He knew no haste           And I had put away           My labor and my leisure too,           For His Civility –    

  ain’t the most happy poem,  but that’s one of the ones i remember.    ‘

[unfreak-blog1]

♕. hand holding

  @ithasme

it’s winter at her hands ,     her fingertips are molded snow  clasping around the warmth of him and salvaging it,    absorbing it into her own heat-deprived existence.     she offers a hold that’s soft and non-hesitant.     she doesn’t mind about the oddity of his hands      –      the deformity of fused fingers.     what a relief that swells his heart and has him  looking down at twined hands,  his own clasping without want to let go.    like this moment will trickle away if he turns his head.

‘     still so cold,     ‘        voice soft while bringing their hands atop his thigh  closer to his knee.   another covers up the back of her palm,  grant warmth to all uncovered skin.        ‘   you don’t know how good this is,  vi.     (  looks to her.  )     i mean it,   ‘       no fear,   no discomfort draped behind fake eagerness.  she’s genuine   -    REAL.  

‘   if we stay this close forever,  i won’t mind.   do you  ?   ‘

tightens his hold without suffocation,  as if she’s a fading reverie that’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep her close enough.    wants her close now,  wants her close always.       

[unfreak-blog1]

yikes - trust me. you don't want to meet them.

   @ithasme

euphoria smoothens over a stretched out smile.   sun peeks over the horizon of his outlook,  diminishing the shadows of pessimism.     ‘   why not ?   ‘    leans a little closer,      shoulder  brushing shoulder,     locks of her hair ghosting over the cotton of his sleeve.    ‘    did they do somethin’ ?    ’m sure your folks ain’t that bad,  vi.    ‘  

[unfreak-blog1]

@ithasme

morning. sun makes a late cameo stalled by overcast skies, only peeking through the rare spaces poking into vibrant blue overhead. it’s chilly inside. temperatures dip as the heater’s warmth is spared, gooseflesh rising with this bitter chill turning perpetual. jimmy clasps his hands together, salvaging whatever fire his body can provide. 

‘  jesus, ya aren’t cold ?  ‘  saving on bills - a decision on his own that he’s surprised violet isn’t fazed by. she’s seated comfortably, lax almost, as the frequent silences between them is shared by the television across the room.   ‘   think i’m losin’ all feelin’ in my toes.   ‘ 

she smirks, elbow propped up on the armrest of the couch, her head supported by the back of her palm,   ’  sure it’s not your hands ?   ‘      she looks over.   (   she has been cold, colder than he could ever imagine, a cold that trumps the tundra that’s plagued her heart … or something in her chest. she doesn’t have a heart anymore that beats, lungs anymore that breathes. but he doesn’t know. and doesn’t intend to pop the bubble of this comforting solace — of her and him.   )   ‘  and no. not really.  maybe it’s just you.  ‘    playfully sealed with a smile. 

‘  sure bout that ?  ‘  as she looks back to the television, he reaches out, melded fingers brushing against her cheek,    (   he’s at the center ;     distance easy to conquer   )     ‘   christ !    n’aw you’re freezin’, vi.   ‘   her skin is soft and cold and he could give her warmth from mere hands-cupping-around-her-cheeks,    but another idea crosses his mind.    ’  sit tight for a sec.  ‘   he gets up. 

‘   what is it ?   don’t freeze to death on your way back.   ‘ 

‘   you’ll see.   ‘n i’ll try not ta’.   ‘ 

*

in his hand is a soft fleece blanket, tossed over to her. 

violet picks it up, sitting further up in her seat.   ‘  no, really, jimmy — it’s cool. i’m fine.  ‘ 

he sits beside her, soft cushions of the couch sinking just barely from their weight. its springs still fresh and not creaking. thankfully. he grins.     ’  yeah, you’re right.    it is cool in here,   ’n it’s not only for you.   ‘    eager fingers reach for the other end, immediately splitting it from its fold and opening it further. it can cover the width of the couch but he reels it close to just them, seal them together in their bubble of warmth.  

violet does the same,  tucking spare edges of their cover at her side,   then she stops,   looking over to jimmy.

he nestles closer to her,  body acting as a heater she can’t even feel ;  death won’t allow her that luxury to be human,  to register the hot or cold,  differentiate the weather as much as she wishes,  but    here and now she can swear she feels something then.   

jimmy looks to her,  her not catching on that she’s staring til he breaks into a breathy laugh,     ‘  isn’t it better ?   ‘    

she can feel a little more human,  a little more alive.  the blankets only encasing the warmth she has right beside him that acts as a new match to keep aflame the fire in her chest.   she pulls the blankets closer to her the way jimmy did,  space nonexistent between them but a comfort.    ‘   yeah.  much better.   ‘ 

[unfreak-blog1]

violet ( @ithasme ): stay away from tate. jimmy: what is this word tate. i feel like you're starting to say a word but not finishing it. are you trying to say tater tots ?  are you trying to keep me away from tater tots ?

[entate-blog]

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