to be haunted would be such a terrible thing —— to be the haunted would be twice as damning. where lapses in memory become gaping holes, and bloods become tacky with blood, there is an uncertainty that comes with the unliving, or those whose spirits still cling onto damning dreams. but she has not come to visit ghosts. she will not indulge in their fancy far longer than the dew clings onto the orchard fruit.
instead she has come out of her own violation, in search of an aching heart who seeks the embrace of those other than the shapeless wisps of cosmic dust. maybe she has no name here. no reality. maybe she too is a mirage, a vision conjured up by love and thought. she feels real however, and it is in the subtle shape of her snout and the pitch of her bark which confirms this truth.
❛ ruff ! ruff ! ❜
♡ / @aestui.
