pavement drawings

And I’m still not sure why but the tears came falling-
First a gentle stream,
river
ocean
drowning


I was still
Painted in mud
Rain ricocheting off of my coat onto the cold, hard stone.


Grey- so much grey
Tripping on my own steps
A stranger to my body
knees folded by some other-worldly force

Wet; Ice; Hard; Pavement.

Feeble fingertips drawing patterns on the old rotting wood,
Slipping, slipping, blood.
The cracks became my thoughts.
Broken. Tarnished. Used.

The past and the present fold into one.
Free spirit. Young. Naive.
Trapped. Old. Wise.
Nostalgia I think they call it.

Hell I think I’ll call it.
I think we have grown.
I’m different.

It was a fence.
I climbed it once.
Once.
Someone broke it.
I don’t know who it was.
But I hate them.
A fence.
For Gods sake it was only a fence.
But it was my fence- my goddam fence- and someone broke it.

Maybe it was more than a fence. Maybe it was a metaphor. I don’t know.

And I’m still not sure why but the tears came falling-
First a gentle stream,
river
ocean
drowning

—  it was just a fence.
Drabble inspired by BTS pictures and this 'new' Robin

He startled at the sound of the car horn, jumping back onto the pavement and drawing his bow and arrow with a speed Regina had only witnessed during battle. She stopped him from firing, however, with a gentle palm on his bicep. “It’s okay,” still a little surprised by the dark fire in eyes she’d always known to be filled with nothing but kindness - he’s not the same man she knew, it’s a reminder she needs to keep giving herself - though she made no comment on it as she explained, “they’re modes of transportation in this world, the horn was to warn you from stepping out in front of it lest you wish to be flattened upon the tarmac.”


The joke was lost on him as his brow merely creased in confusion before he asked, “So I am not to shoot at them?”


“No,” she replied on a gentle chuckle, “best not to.”


He nodded, still frowning as he turned to look over the street once more, eyes trailing over the buildings and their strange signs, watching as more cars sped past before he heaved a deep sigh and mused, “This is going to take some getting used to.”


“I know,” Regina replied sympathetically, reaching for his hand and squeezing gently - she still wasn’t used to the way he’d stare and stare at the contact, as though it were completely foreign (it was to him, to them both in all honesty because it wasn’t him, not the Robin she’d known) - before reminding him, “but that’s what I’m here for remember,” she smiled as best she could despite the strong urge to cry, “to help.”


“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, eyes moving between her own in a way that was almost reminiscent of the man she’d loved - it had her heart aching in her chest - “that I’m not him.” He could read her just as easily as the Robin she’d known, that much had been obvious from the very first day they’d met in the strange Wish Land from whence she’d rescued Emma.


“You have nothing to apologise for,” she shook her head, “thank you for coming with me.”


He laughed softly, turning towards her more fully and ducking his head almost bashfully as he confessed, “In all honesty, m’lady,” the term still made her heart flutter in her chest, “I don’t think I could’ve let you leave without me.”


This part she’d found came easier, the flirtation, the teasing, and so, with a breath of laughter and her own step closer to him, she whispered, “Is that so?” breath catching in her throat when he met her step with one of his own so that they were practically toe to toe.


“Most definitely.”


He’d been lifting his hand to thread his fingers through her hair and pull her closer to him in a way they’d only done once before whilst in Wish Land, when a shout from the opposite side of the road caught their attention and one that was most certainly not a warm welcome.


“I thought we’d finally ridded ourselves of the riff-raff.”


Both of their gaze snapped to find the Sheriff of Nottingham leering at them from outside of the ice cream store, a vicious scowl on his face and, had the Robin beside her been her Robin, there would’ve barely been a reaction but, as it was, this Robin was still so very different and in much of a different, darker place as demonstrated by the way he was instantly leaning down to grab the dagger from his boot with bloody murder in his eyes.


No, this was not her Robin but still, Regina found herself just as enthralled by him.