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by chance: a shared prerequisite, of which neither lust after, cascading into life like an incommodious parasite.
at first glance, it is simply that: an engrossment. but even the forced undesirables of life, can blossom into something more.
soon, it is sought after.
like a cat lusting after its next meal, the little bird lusts after the sea, longing to plunge down into his depths, and drown herself within the enigmatical shadows of the deep.
he flows freely. but he melds with the shore, made for her, drawn to her.
the little bird looks on, and looks at her feathers, and looks again down into his depths, and knows that this was not meant to be.
but love is a leap of faith, though for her it is something more like falling.
it is a protracted, slovenly spiral, but she does not mind. she becomes one with his currents, water dragging her feathers down, losing herself in the feeling of being so close.
she allows herself to sink: trapped.
the force of his waters grows too strong: trapped.
the knowledge of her decision being the cause of this pain in her lungs burns in her mind, a constant reminder: trapped.
but she can't find it within herself to care.
trapped.
a little bird once flew over the sea, a single speck in an endless universe: content with watching the other birds, never once allowing love to cross her mind.
but then she looked down.
he was far too vast, far too spacious, and loved by too many, for her to be naught but a fleeting thought in the back of his mind.
and yet, she trapped herself in his embrace, lusting after the weight of her feathers, soaked with love, dragging her further, and further, down.
