(no subject)

[song_tra_bong]

It's the room. It's not the room, because he's not in it, but it is the room. If she closes her eyes, she can imagine (remember) where he is lying in relation to her.
this is the story of the boys who loved you
But he's not lying here.
who love you now and loved you then
He's in the room across the hall, where he's supposed to be.
and some were sweet, some were cold and snuffed you
She doesn't begrudge him that, doesn't wish him here, even if she suspects sleeping would be easier if she weren't alone in this bed. She wants him to be with Gorlim, to be happy, for them both to be happy. That road would only have ended in madness and sorrow and ruin.
and some just laid around in bed
Maybe.
some had crumbled you straight to your knees
She could follow the paths where they diverged (in a yellow wood?), follow them to the end and know instead of this wondering that kept her awake, half smothering herself in a remembered forgotten scent of lilies on a pillowcase.
did it cruel, did it tenderly
But she is afraid, so afraid, more than she has been in ages--maybe ever--because she knows what she saw isn't the end of it.
some had crawled their way into your heart
She knows what he wants, what she wants for him, and it's the happiness he has. Not some night of (sin) meaningless sex with a (whore) woman he calls friend and wren and (melethril) nothing else.
to rend your ventricles apart
She closes her hand tight around the pendant at her throat. She doesn't want Ruin here, not now (would he wear his face if I asked would I have to ask)--just to know that she has something (someone). So that she can remember arms around her to fall asleep by, and give them some other name than the one she (can't) shouldn't.

Eventually, her breathing evens out and she slips into sleep.

It will all be well.
This is the story of the boys who loved you.
It has to be.