#jutaitaiten

[zuikko]

he’s a rotten & hollow thing.    an open wound left to fester,      the result of an innocence stolen.      his eyes had been a warm honey once,  now hiraeth-kissed & devoid of mirth expected for his youth as he glares to the viridescence below.    ❛❛    ugh,   this is hopeless.   ❜❜    it’s a curse,   he thinks.   he is damned.  each breath haphazardly drawn only serves as a reminder of all he’d lost.   all that had slipped through ivory fingers as he failed to grasp onto it.   (    failure,   failure,  failure!   will your existence ever amount to anything more?   )    ❛❛   i can’t do this,  it’s just going to keep blowing up in my face.   ❜❜   >  @jutaitaiten​

[nakhama-a]

emi sits with her knees held loose to her chest,   remnants of her laughter quieting in the warm light of sunset.   in the silence,   she watches him;   watches her boy,   no longer small and frail and held close to the curve of her chest.   he’s tall,   now   . . .   far quieter than she thought he’d end up,   and his posture is terrible,   she’s noticed.

but he’s alive.   he’s unbelievable alive,   despite all odds alive,   real and tangibly alive   . . .   she couldn’t ask for anything more.

‘   ahhh   . . .   i can’t believe you found your way back to me.   ’   an echo of the day before,   and the day before,   and the day before still.   always the same:   emi reaches out to run her hand through his hair,   the same jet - black as his father’s,   resting her palm against his cheek with a soft pat.   ‘   some odds,   huh   ?   ’

@jutaitaiten,   megumi.