The Fabric of Our Souls

by K.M. Moronova

Whoever coined the phrase “sticks and stones” is an asshole, don’t you think? Words indeed hurt more than stones. Thanks for trying to gaslight me out of it though. It didn’t work.

My mind is a plague that needs to be cured and people like me are damned to chase this mysterious elixir.

“You should wait… and it doesn’t have to be for anything specific. I’m just saying—wait for the weight of the world to pass. Wait until the tremors that wrack through your skull drift into the depths again. Wait until the sun rises, and the light makes you feel a little less pointless.”

“What if waiting doesn’t work?”

“You let me know and I’ll hold you until the darkness fades.”

“Remedium meum,”

“What did you say just then?”

“My cure.”

She’s the image of heartache—and I want the pain she instills inside my heart forever.

The fabric of our souls is thin—we’ve been wandering this world just to unite in this small corner of the universe. Our connection is frightening and

enchanting all at once.

“No—I knew the moment I saw you. You were not to be pitied. Your mind is a beautiful and dangerous thing, Wynn, sick as it may be. But your soul illuminates the world around you, setting all else ablaze with your inevitable anguish.”

Liam lingers around the dried baby's-breath bundles. By the awed look on his face, I don’t think he’s seen dried bouquets before. The peonies have always been my favorite. They hold their faded colors so preciously. “Why do you like these so much?” Liam asks,

“It is a bit morbid, isn’t it?” I say as I caress one of the dry petals. “I think it’s because it makes me happy to see something that was once so beautiful in life be just as pretty, if not more so, in death. Forever beautiful.” “You’re right. That is fucking morbid.”

“But you wouldn’t be Wynn Coldfox if your mind wasn’t such a dark, lovely, wicked thing.”

Lanston Nevers “The Fabric of our Souls is thin and worn. We must be gentle and love tirelessly.”