9.
an unlucky number that promises pain and distress, fear and despair
he wondered why she is fascinated with him,
a girl with the power of elusive lightning,
her thoughts always a myriad of unsung melodies,
a jaunty tune that holds a macabre beat,
eyes of sapphire glinting morbidly at him,
mischievously sticking her tongue out.
he wonders why she sees him
him, a creature of the mad and ethereal sea that can not be held,
that distorts with different names and aliases,
the current constantly changing and dancing to an offbeat rhythm
forever altering, promising tales of romantica and secrets, while taking away the life of sailors cherished by their wives;
flowing and ebbing, waxing and waning, weeping a sorrowful tune for being so benevolent and judgemental
he is unpredictable, slipping away like grains of hourglass juice beneath her elf-like feet
the lightning too is a force to be reckoned with, one similarity with the swirling water, forging their paths
unstable misfits,
two peas in a pod,
one who brings pain wherever they go, the other who inflicts it as a reflex action// both knew they were disliked, but both refuse to reform to the demand – keeping their beliefs close to them,
he musses why she never feared him,
why she never draws away from him. what did his number, unfortunate as it is, mean to her?
her mouth, cruel but witty and a lover of bending words, curves, amused by the very notion of the question.
"it's a number that drew me to you. a number of our union."
"above all," and the elf can not help but grin, as quick as fleeting as lightning itself,
their joke eternal
"the number nine..."
cursed. it sounds like pain. it sounds like fear. forever.
"... is my lucky number."
it's a pretty thought to die for love.
©
