KaliaStormblade

when you say my name, i hear a church, burning. the wheat fields turn to ash and the horses run until they forget they are horses. i hear a church burning and this is a list of things you forgot to cross out: the horses running until they forget they are horses and we forget that we’re not. this is a list of things you forgot to cross out: write a poem for a personal apocalypse; forget that we’re not brave enough to light the fire; only watch. write a poem for a personal apocalypse - the wheat fields turn to ash, and we’re brave enough to light the fire when you say my name.

"-Up, already." Desmond groaned, pulling the covers over his head in a vain attempt to remain asleep. The warm covers were pulled away from his grasp. Glaring up at the culprit, Desmond rolled onto his back. "It's 8am, Shaun." "How very perceptive of you. Up, Miles, before I make you run laps in your boxers." Shaun folded the covers neatly, his navy jogging outfit immaculate and tidy. "Bet you'd love that, eh?" Desmond muttered, leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve his jeans and hoodie. A sharp sting on his backside made him wince, and look up. "I'll get you for that." Shaun grinned. "You'll have to catch me first, Desmond." His

Humming to himself, Shaun opened the freezer door, scanning what lay inside. He sighed. It had been weeks since they'd gone shopping, there was barely anything left. Pulling at the boxes of icepops that were labelled 'Desmond', he turned on his heel. A small red carton stood at the back of the freezer, hidden behind the frozen treats. Confused, the Historian reached out for it, his fingers freezing cold. Labelled 'Shaun', it was a tub of plain vanilla ice cream, picked up on one of the shopping trips. Pulling the top off, he realised it was unopened, the plastic pink spoon still inside. Placing Desmond's icepops back carefully, Shaun turne