[ FEVER SPREADING INTO LIGHT ]
A L E J A N D R O . . . you've got a lover, a love like religion; you pray he does not fall in love with you, for you are falser than vows made in wine. and you want to kiss a god or two on the mouth (come on, this is not a night for tragedy), because if you prayed the weight would lessen, but his mouth can do it better than some god who don't speak. you had his heart in you mouth, tasted the wet arteries, the sinewy red muscles, the sharpness of his blood. you can't stop shivering; you're wearing too much makeup and you want to forget everything except the way he looks at you. the first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt. the second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth.
forgive me, father, for i have dreamed tonight. if this is love, make it song-soft, make it a valley full of sparrow feathers. there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. give me my sin again.
P H I L L I P . . . "i'm yours," he says, and you're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, you're trembling. you think, everything you heard is true; everybody knows i'm hung up on you. and you would give it all to not be sleeping alone - they say true love hurts; well, this could almost kill you. you confess how long you've looked for a place to worship and, oh, he puts you on your knees. you think, please don't be in love with somebody else. you fit over his hips like they were made for you. you fit, you fit, you fit. "i love you," he says. you say: "say it again. please, say it again?" where will this take us, this fever, spreading into light? you tell him, "never say that you could die to me. we'll live long, you and i. we'll avoid fats and sugar, season in moderation, and we'll live long, you and me."
[ INSIDE MY HEART, A HURRICANE ]
E L I A S . . . golden child, lion boy; tell me what it's like to conquer. burn all the things you have to burn and save all the things you have to save; you can lose fucking everything - but not him, oh god, not him. and the nights get heavy like they always do. you are older which means when you think of forests you get stuck not on the robin eggs but on the fox teeth. you're crying, and you don't do that often. you don't want them to tell you sweet things to get you by, because it only makes you miss him more. you want them to tell you how to stop the pain.
fearless child, broken boy; tell me what it's like to burn. do you still taste of war? can he still feel the battles on your skin, stitched across your back? are you still rebuilding, bone by fragile bone? you say to him: thank you for loving me, even when i still tasted of heartache and war.
C H R I S T O P H E R . . . it starts with a small flap, but now, inside your heart, a hurricane. you almost lose him and that's the moment you realize what pain really feels like; and you realize to love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be. you almost lose him and your heart starts off-beating, its usual tempo a discorded mess. but day by day you learn how to make these bones your own, in spite of the heartaches, in spite of the set-backs. wrens sing and you remember love. red sky touches black pines and you understand how it feels to need to keep going forward. there is beauty in the motions and unfoldings of your hands. and god, you think he must have died but then he touches you and it brings you back. he's real and you're alive and it's all that matters, and then the birds return in the spring (listen to their singing): robin, blackbird, lark, and wren, whistling, piping, home again.
ships + quote compilations (pt 1/???) ft ocs from @ayzrules @morningstar1399 @artless-whimsy @jetipster
