sage // she/her // united states // i will

write lesbian johnlock my goddamn self

❝ I just wanted to say… I’m sorry, we were kids. I’m sorry, I had nothing to live for. I’m sorry, I got swept away by the jade, igniting sea, by the flutterflash of his eyelashes under the apologetic sun. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I always fall for the swan instead of the hawk. I still melt into him like wet clay, like a heat wave, like a shuddering star, strumming his ribs like the strings of a guitar, the wild expanse of his rosefield stomach, how semblence slips away when his tongue blankets mine. Our love is a deathmatch, at the banks of Tartarus, with a hooded creature and a cyclops. I’m sorry I only seem to look at the world with one eye, but a blind man’s vision is bound to be gifted and some say spirits swarm me, that chaos wrecks my skies. The first day, his bare, blooming feet, the sandy blisters on his heels, how he raced against time like Hercules cutting through clouds with his sword, all his hair in his face, gold fountains like magma, those eyes carved by conch shells; floating within them; sea angels. The first kiss, I’m thirteen, my heart’s half-chewed up, he engulfs me like a raging tsunami and spits out what’s left of the dead beating thing. Look, my love, you are all that I lived for. You are the pyramids and the seven bleeding oceans, you are my fatal flaw, my waning moon. Close your eyes. There’s too much blood, and remember that to me, you’ll always be that five-year-old boy with two missing teeth and firebird wings, tipping me over like an iceberg, drowning me in your sugar-sweet disposition. To me, you are forever the innocent flower, the boy who answered some petulant, tantrum-throwing god’s call, won eternal prosperity and lost a part of his soul in the bargain. Oh, dear, light-blessed boy, there are squalls in your veins. Oh Achillies, your enchanted plumes are summer-thick and twice as strong. Oh, Achillies I grant you everything, I fall to your feet now in rapture and not in pain. Oh, Achillies, I grant you a thousand lifetimes worth of joy & peace & wishes performed. Oh, Achillies, may we meet again, somewhere in the cold heart of sky, somewhere at the bottom of your mother’s saltwater empire, somewhere, in a moonblue field where I can fall asleep to your lyre and your cosmic touch. Oh, Achillies. Close your eyes. There’s too much blood. ❞