the imminent wreckage of a forthcoming tideby SecondPrancesChaptersthe tattered edges of a broken illusion is where we areself personification in the form of empty words prescribed to a nameless ponywe are a destructive force and i am a part of itus is an echo of an impossibility that was never even there and i am a falsehoodthe tattered edges of a broken illusion is where we areWhen I woke up this morning, I didn't love you anymore. yesterday I had, or at least as far as I can remember. there was such a yearning deep down, in my heart that pounded, and tried to escape my chest yesterday when I looked upon your face, a flame so bright it burned something fierce in my soul Today, as I see your slumbering form jumble of wings and fur. Mane unkempt Disquiet snores your being occupying so much space next to me. Today, I don't love you. Not like I did yesterday. where is the roaring fire instead, looking upon your peaceful sleeping form I feel safe secure comfortable tame desire, still there. The want to be next to you as bright as ever; can I still be your love if I don't feel it the same anymore? what disservice must I do for all the wondrous heart you bring to this notion of 'us', when I have nothing so much to give in return. What is this love but the desire of 'us', muted though It may be. And do you still love me? The same way, too? As I ponder and mull wrapped in thoughts as tendrils, writhing occupying precious space within my worried mind your hoof under warm morning glow sensing my anxiety reaches out touches mine You're awake though I never heard you Nor considered the quickening of your breath as you grumble grasp at consciousness stir yourself from slumber lazily, content, rousing from some cozy dream your favourite hobby undoubtedly you peer at me with eyes so intense intelligent knowing "What is it?" you ask "Nothing," I say, and I tell the truth I remembered why I loved you and I do so all over again "Want to go to the park today? It's been so long since we had a good picnic." "Nah," you're quick to respond, rolling over to catch me in warm wings "I think I'd rather just stay in bed with you." self personification in the form of empty words prescribed to a nameless ponyat first you said "I love you." but how could you you, who doesn't know what love means to burn so hard you want to tear your heart out to yearn so much and be desperate for reprieve parched to be consumed all else taken from you so rich with desire you cringe at the sight of me because it hurts so much how could you love me you love the idea of me do you even know me? or is it the illusion of me? or am I the broken one? we are a destructive force and i am a part of itDo you think we're good for each other? Trixie leaned against the side of her caravan and toward the setting sun bathing the quaint valley somewhere between Appleoosa and San Palomino In an orange blanket of light No Starlight didn't look up from collecting the shattered remains of her favourite teacup We're terrible partners, aren't we, Star? Trixie never looked back watched the way the canyons and plains were bathed in long shadows Yes Starlight lifted her head finishing with discarding the filty remains of another heated argument Why? Trixie didn't dare move her gaze or let it wander for fear of meeting the other's disapproving eyes I guess...we just want different things Starlight heaved heavy, sad sigh. I'm sorry, Starlight, about-- No, you're not. And neither am I. silence passed over, sticky like the sweat of a humid day Do you think that a pony can be bad, Starlight? No, but I do think two ponies can be bad for each other and leave each other worse off together than not It wasn't always this way, was it? I used to see a light in your eyes something I'd never seen in another pony before I guess I don't see it anymore Trixie frowned found apparent interest In her hoof in the dry, arid dirt Starlight was silent until such silence broke with a frail whisper I used to love seeing you learn new things you had a love for learning that I shared but now... It's not there. Trixie frowned When I woke up this morning you weren't there or the morning before or the morning before that did you mean what you said when you told me I was broken and incapable of loving anypony but myself? Yes. Starlight drank from a flask long and slow, taking careful sips letting the cheap alcohol burn on her tongue Just as you meant what you said to me about never being good enough always in Twilight's shadow never able to make my own way you meant that and you were right. we're terrible for each other, aren't we Starlight? Yes now let's get back inside us is an echo of an impossibility that was never even there and i am a falsehoodfootfall on crisp snow the biting air crunch, crunch, crunch new hoofprints that scar a barren, untouched landscape that just a day ago was anything but Ice crystals form in fur melt from body heat and refreeze into pointy spikes cold, the kind that seeps into skin and bone and everything leaving her, the pony hollow cold, the kind that pulls out strands of your soul stretches them out long into the bitter air like entrails left to dry empty memories and shallow emotions of him where it starts and ends she doesn't know it's this kind of cold frigid, unforgiving where seconds is all you have it places a perspective on life when you're trying to dull the pain where it sinks into your bones and your soul and everything all you have is to think and remember and walk crunch, crunch, crunch so she thinks of him the time he took her dancing and it had rained long and hard so that he had to hold out his wing to keep her dry that had impressed her then something so simple she wished she had a warm body now yet when she thought of him whether it the biting wind or something else the memory felt as cold as the freshly fallen, frozen snow billowing in drifts that curved and rose over the hill catching the sun so as to blind her white as Celestia and probably more cold, like her cottage the day he'd come over and they'd stayed by the fire all night huddling under blankets for warmth and he'd kissed her and promised her everything and she thought she'd give it in return cold, like a time before, years ago when her heart, broken promised itself never to open again for anypony else was she incapable of it or just too guarded maybe it was for self preservation or self-pity? either way Finally she stood on the doorstep of his quaint town- house and knocked dolefully He opened it quickly, lit up and stood aside. It's been weeks, he said. Why didn't you call? She held her head down and looked away and avoided his startled, shocked gaze. She did not face him, couldn't look up at his worried eyes, furrowed brow so the silence hung and the cold pierced her bones but she did not accept his urgent invitation inside, and instead they stood out on his doorstep and said nothing or until she could work up the courage. I don't love you. I never did. This life isn't for me, it's not you I have to go I'm sorry.
the tattered edges of a broken illusion is where we areWhen I woke up this morning, I didn't love you anymore. yesterday I had, or at least as far as I can remember. there was such a yearning deep down, in my heart that pounded, and tried to escape my chest yesterday when I looked upon your face, a flame so bright it burned something fierce in my soul Today, as I see your slumbering form jumble of wings and fur. Mane unkempt Disquiet snores your being occupying so much space next to me. Today, I don't love you. Not like I did yesterday. where is the roaring fire instead, looking upon your peaceful sleeping form I feel safe secure comfortable tame desire, still there. The want to be next to you as bright as ever; can I still be your love if I don't feel it the same anymore? what disservice must I do for all the wondrous heart you bring to this notion of 'us', when I have nothing so much to give in return. What is this love but the desire of 'us', muted though It may be. And do you still love me? The same way, too? As I ponder and mull wrapped in thoughts as tendrils, writhing occupying precious space within my worried mind your hoof under warm morning glow sensing my anxiety reaches out touches mine You're awake though I never heard you Nor considered the quickening of your breath as you grumble grasp at consciousness stir yourself from slumber lazily, content, rousing from some cozy dream your favourite hobby undoubtedly you peer at me with eyes so intense intelligent knowing "What is it?" you ask "Nothing," I say, and I tell the truth I remembered why I loved you and I do so all over again "Want to go to the park today? It's been so long since we had a good picnic." "Nah," you're quick to respond, rolling over to catch me in warm wings "I think I'd rather just stay in bed with you."
self personification in the form of empty words prescribed to a nameless ponyat first you said "I love you." but how could you you, who doesn't know what love means to burn so hard you want to tear your heart out to yearn so much and be desperate for reprieve parched to be consumed all else taken from you so rich with desire you cringe at the sight of me because it hurts so much how could you love me you love the idea of me do you even know me? or is it the illusion of me? or am I the broken one?
we are a destructive force and i am a part of itDo you think we're good for each other? Trixie leaned against the side of her caravan and toward the setting sun bathing the quaint valley somewhere between Appleoosa and San Palomino In an orange blanket of light No Starlight didn't look up from collecting the shattered remains of her favourite teacup We're terrible partners, aren't we, Star? Trixie never looked back watched the way the canyons and plains were bathed in long shadows Yes Starlight lifted her head finishing with discarding the filty remains of another heated argument Why? Trixie didn't dare move her gaze or let it wander for fear of meeting the other's disapproving eyes I guess...we just want different things Starlight heaved heavy, sad sigh. I'm sorry, Starlight, about-- No, you're not. And neither am I. silence passed over, sticky like the sweat of a humid day Do you think that a pony can be bad, Starlight? No, but I do think two ponies can be bad for each other and leave each other worse off together than not It wasn't always this way, was it? I used to see a light in your eyes something I'd never seen in another pony before I guess I don't see it anymore Trixie frowned found apparent interest In her hoof in the dry, arid dirt Starlight was silent until such silence broke with a frail whisper I used to love seeing you learn new things you had a love for learning that I shared but now... It's not there. Trixie frowned When I woke up this morning you weren't there or the morning before or the morning before that did you mean what you said when you told me I was broken and incapable of loving anypony but myself? Yes. Starlight drank from a flask long and slow, taking careful sips letting the cheap alcohol burn on her tongue Just as you meant what you said to me about never being good enough always in Twilight's shadow never able to make my own way you meant that and you were right. we're terrible for each other, aren't we Starlight? Yes now let's get back inside
us is an echo of an impossibility that was never even there and i am a falsehoodfootfall on crisp snow the biting air crunch, crunch, crunch new hoofprints that scar a barren, untouched landscape that just a day ago was anything but Ice crystals form in fur melt from body heat and refreeze into pointy spikes cold, the kind that seeps into skin and bone and everything leaving her, the pony hollow cold, the kind that pulls out strands of your soul stretches them out long into the bitter air like entrails left to dry empty memories and shallow emotions of him where it starts and ends she doesn't know it's this kind of cold frigid, unforgiving where seconds is all you have it places a perspective on life when you're trying to dull the pain where it sinks into your bones and your soul and everything all you have is to think and remember and walk crunch, crunch, crunch so she thinks of him the time he took her dancing and it had rained long and hard so that he had to hold out his wing to keep her dry that had impressed her then something so simple she wished she had a warm body now yet when she thought of him whether it the biting wind or something else the memory felt as cold as the freshly fallen, frozen snow billowing in drifts that curved and rose over the hill catching the sun so as to blind her white as Celestia and probably more cold, like her cottage the day he'd come over and they'd stayed by the fire all night huddling under blankets for warmth and he'd kissed her and promised her everything and she thought she'd give it in return cold, like a time before, years ago when her heart, broken promised itself never to open again for anypony else was she incapable of it or just too guarded maybe it was for self preservation or self-pity? either way Finally she stood on the doorstep of his quaint town- house and knocked dolefully He opened it quickly, lit up and stood aside. It's been weeks, he said. Why didn't you call? She held her head down and looked away and avoided his startled, shocked gaze. She did not face him, couldn't look up at his worried eyes, furrowed brow so the silence hung and the cold pierced her bones but she did not accept his urgent invitation inside, and instead they stood out on his doorstep and said nothing or until she could work up the courage. I don't love you. I never did. This life isn't for me, it's not you I have to go I'm sorry.
