#big ouchie

sephiroth is the kind of guy you'd keep a picture of in a locket you wear going to war

you'll look at his picture and smile, the warmest tears you've ever shed rolling down your face, the only regret you die with being that you'll never get to see him again

he's the kind of beautiful that you see once and never forget, the kind that'll never be a memory, the kind that consumes, the kind you'd willingly be consumed by, the one and only

you'll die remembering his name and nothing more

wishing he was there

but he isn't. he arrives when you're already gone. too late.

on the pale snow, your blood spreads, a stream of crimson flowers blooming across the winter

on his pale hands, staining them a cruel red

too late

too late.

your hand clutches your locket with a passionate intensity, even in death.

and he cries, salty pearls, delicate, delicately gorgeous

his ethereality sits in the darkness of death,

an angel kneeling by your side

his silver locks liquid moonlight spilling across the white snow

his chapped lips whispering your name

sacred, lost

never to return

he brings your hand to his lips

a parting kiss

as he lies in the snow, unable to feel its coldness

next to you

dandelion

you grew up too fast and all you know is the calluses on your fists and the thousand invisible scars that you pretend don't ache. your anger burns so bright, so hot or maybe not at all, so deep you could never tell it was there. you are yours and you will defend that to the death after so many years of being ripped apart and denied your own agency and maybe you are still facing the bastards who stole your innocence but you will survive because that's the only thing you know how to do without breaking, the only thing you know besides protect, protect, protect, protect, yourself or sometimes those few others you claim as yours. you are a thousand sharp edges but impenetrable, a traumatized child so covered by thorny armor that you promised yourself you're grown now, you're stronger than anyone who has ever hurt you. you're safe. nothing will ever hurt you again. you're so alone though sometimes, in a world that sees you as too much or too broken or too angry or too hurt, and you want to scream with the too-much of it, prove that you're okay, that you're self-reliant, that you are strong enough to stake your claim on your body, on your mind, on your heart, on your people, and protect it from any who dare take it away from you. you are the sea in tempest, a howling sky, a tsunami in motion, a force of nature, no matter how much you sometimes yearn to be still, to be safe, to be small. you are a dandelion, stubborn and determined to grow in the rockiest of soil, and bloom again in spring.