(Untitled)

[msandromeda]

Despair like ashes. That's a poetic cliche that still pops up frequently in English. Maybe more often in overwrought fantasy novels. It must have been such a strong image when it was new - the grey sodden heaviness of ashes, the acrid smell. And where there are ashes there once was fire - whether it warmed you or destroyed everything you owned, it'

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[lady_gray]

My name is Kami as well, and I wish I knew you then.

I hear that it's the rainiest it's been
In over forty years. A record fall
Of frigid, blunt, unsentimental rain:
November's but a single fleur de gris,
A dovecote for the darkened clouding squall
That teeters, almost toppling, over this
Wet city, glowing wetly here at dusk;
I shiver, rain-pricked, waiting for the bus.
A smoker joins me in the damp alcove
And laughs a sidelong laugh, his fingers wove
Into the wire mesh surrounding us;
"Goddamn, it's cold," he says, and laughs a husk.
I grip the bag, and jump into the bus
Bypassing floods of street-washed detrius.

[lady_gray]

Still though, I am glad to know you now.

<333333

[msandromeda]

awww, thanks!! :DDD