Untitled Love
The two of them died in the war, but their bodies remained, entwined in each other’s limbs causing them to become a statue of molten skin, pressed tightly together and clenching open palms to bare backs, locked in an embrace that can’t be unbound, one continuous creature unable to be ripped apart, each trying to shield the other from the doom lurking behind eyes closed tightly because what you can’t see can’t hurt you and life will be okay, but they perished with their naïve ideal of hugs curing any harm that comes their way, their arms scrambling to latch onto any part they could wrap themselves around, bones protruding from the translucent surface stretched loosely over every angle of the two headed being with its four legs crossed within itself, tightening the core of the beast, digging claws into the shoulders of its counterpart, toes thrust into the ground, their last effort at rooting themselves before the burst of light from the distance swept them away in its radiant gaze, and tears trekked down their faces, trusting the caress to withstand the tenacious winds lamenting towards them, this was their last exhale before they were damned to this ground. Faith M. Deruelle Faith M. Deruelle lives in Brooklyn with her one cat and one fish. She was born in Florida, and attended Florida State University where she obtained a Bachelor of Science in Creative Writing and Environmental Science. Faith is in a Master of Fine Arts program at The New School in New York.
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October 2024
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