Ameko-Shadowsong

She set the glass down on the table with a solid thunk, following it with an entire bottle. Chosha looked up at the dark-haired Waterfall-nin with a slender raised eyebrow. "Just one glass? You expect me to drink the entire bottle on my own, Ameko-chan?" “Hell yes.” The younger kunoichi smiled wryly. “But don’t worry. I’m about to go back and get myself a glass and another bottle. I’m paying, after all.” Chosha snickered—and deliberately poured herself half a cup of sake. “Neither one of us drinks that much, Ameko-chan.” “Tonight, we both do.” She disappeared momentarily and retu

my dandelions speak of the kitchen, brimming with sun-streaked sugar and mended-over smiles. floured fingerprints cloud the sky, but every broken egg is one more yellow flower. in sweetgrass and flowers i find white-leaf bandages for cracked shells. coils of sky fill the bowl to the brim- the world is a clean smile wrapped in sugar. everything here is white and pale as sugar gathered to mend your flowered smile. i wish you'd swallow always fields of dandelions that brim with every clean, clear sky. i'll measure out the sky in cups of sugar. fogged upon the rim of the flour bowl- your fingerprints in flowers. i'll mix in

my dandelions speak of the kitchen, brimming with sun-streaked sugar and mended-over smiles. floured fingerprints cloud the sky, but every broken egg is one more yellow flower. in sweetgrass and flowers i find white-leaf bandages for cracked shells. coils of sky fill the bowl to the brim- the world is a clean smile wrapped in sugar. everything here is white and pale as sugar gathered to mend your flowered smile. i wish you'd swallow always fields of dandelions that brim with every clean, clear sky. i'll measure out the sky in cups of sugar. fogged upon the rim of the flour bowl- your fingerprints in flowers. i'll mix in

boxes. so many boxes in sharp angles, straight lines, and it looks like I have my life in order. take off the mask, the arrow-straight façades, and look inside. they hold everything, anything, nothing at all, and this is what you want me to get rid of?

i. not white roses this time, but buttercups, soft yellow-gold against my dark green heart, leave tears in their wake. ii. the spider scuttling across my chin will find all the webs and cracks in my face; it can make its home there, without any effort. iii. I've cobwebs in my eyes, vines between my lips; and the bright new flowers draw dewdrops from my sight to glitter on the gossamer veins beneath my skin.

I flitted in and out of dreams filled with fire and pain, but I was never really awake. Mostly, I was crying, and they told me afterward that I was screaming almost perpetually as well, which explained why my throat was so raw when I finally did wake up. Besides the smoke, I mean. They told me, too, that when I wasn’t screaming, I was whispering Rafe’s name over and over and over, and that when I did, the tears fell harder than ever. But I didn’t remember any of that at all. Only the fire and the excruciating agony. I would be haunted by fire for the rest of my life. * “How am I even alive?” I moaned several we