[ flames — almost slips his own mouth. maybe it'd be funny, the way terrible things sometimes are; maybe it will be, later tonight with hands pushed over his eyes, wondering if it's different to burn to death a martyr, a sister, a scared kid. a scared vint.
here and now it's just char: she didn't have to worry about her older daughters. ]
Your mother wasn't,
[ a guess. there's no gentle way to grip a torch, but light comes the same ]
no subject
here and now it's just char: she didn't have to worry about her older daughters. ]
Your mother wasn't,
[ a guess. there's no gentle way to grip a torch, but light comes the same ]