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5.5k · May 2018
be gentle with us
Lillian May May 2018
Be gentle with us.
please.
or not
it's your call
but keep in mind that we as poets
we feel too strong
which is not to say that that is wrong
we don't ease into love, we quickly fall
we love like we're dying
we live like we're small
but in our minds.
in our minds we are flying

we feel everything at once
you wouldn't think it by looking
looking at our normal fronts
a disguise, a charade
but prey don't believe a masquerade
a poet can be but anyone
existing silently
a poet can be but everyone
existing violently
we all make up stories
we're all acting to a degree
so things aren't so different
no not so different you and me

we notice the quirks
we notice the nothings
if you meet a poet then you should believe
you should know that we
we love what we see
and appreciate all forms of beauty
for to us imperfect is lovely
perfect doesn't exist
we have those markings on our wrist
of all the awful places we've been to we kissed
we've kissed the devil when we went
to hell and back again

so now that you have been informed
that a poets heart is easily scorned
knowing we feel deeply
knowing we feel more
more than we really should I've warned
we don't just love a person when we fall
we love their whole world
we love it all
and when we're hurt it is hard to trust
and thus
please.
Be gentle with us.
2.3k · Jun 2020
the solidarity of man
Lillian May Jun 2020
solidarity of man

forces of will converging together
in awesome power loudly,
creating a ruckus and smashing the windows of
souls

solidarity of man

cheerful exclamations for
another's achievement
however so small yet
so largely celebrated in glee

solidarity of man

tears of camaraderie fall to our knees
raindrops mix with sunshine and God reveals promises
sometimes the world needs to crumble and crack
to reveal

the solidarity of man
came to me by hearing someone's audio on zoom get fixed and everyone shouted "yay!". humans are cute creatures. applies to everything happening in the world though!
806 · May 2018
a look back
Lillian May May 2018
I miss the me I was as a child
carefree, joyful, worry-less, and wild
barefoot in grass and everything new
a world so exciting
I was guided through.
I miss the child in all of us.

I miss the me I was in adolescence
against the idea of acquiescence
standing tall and finding myself
a world so frightening
but being confident as well.
I miss when from life we'd all rebel.

I miss the me I have not yet been
lying ahead, in wait, with a grin
for the me then will laugh, raise a brow,
and miss the me that I am now.
804 · Mar 2019
Show Business
Lillian May Mar 2019
Living from day to day by opening cold every morning;
The comedian, in no mood for leisurely reminiscence
how ironic
692 · Jun 2018
the passive heart
Lillian May Jun 2018
the passive heart
is that of one who is a lover and not a fighter
and there are a multitude of sad realities surrounding this
the passive heart
is easily molded and folded and manipulated
it bends and moves with every wave of love
it wilts and sinks with every instance of hate
the passive heart
is not passive when it comes to love
it loves fully and with all of its mass
the passive heart
goes as a hero unsung through life
the skin must thicken and the muscles grow strong
for then the cuts words inflict won’t slice quite as deep
the passive heart
referring back to those sad realities I mentioned
the realities being that these kinds of hearts
people like to test as they know that
the passive heart
will give too much room to be hurt
over and over again
pretending to be fine out of hope that things aren’t truly that bad
and I should know
for how would I know all of this
in detail and so vivid
for you might’ve guess that I too
well I too am inflicted with the simultaneous blessing and curse of
the passive heart
679 · Aug 2018
a funny feeling
Lillian May Aug 2018
a
funny
fluttering
feeling
in
my
                heart
beats
skipping
and
dancing
and
jumping
                around
I look
and
wonder
where
you've
been
               all my life
I hope one day this will belong to someone
677 · May 2019
the girl with no nickname
Lillian May May 2019
she walks with grace
and a deep, earned sense of place
she smiles
and as laughs tickle at her waist
others around can't help but follow in haste

she has no nickname,
no joke or snicker surrounding her frame
no clever breadcrumbs
to tell the story of how she became
she simply is, and exists as a flame

she has an air of peace,
and a soft, subtle feeling of ease
she opens her lips
and as she speaks
tears from his eyes begin their leaks.
I wonder what or who you picture.
606 · Sep 2019
I'll read it myself
Lillian May Sep 2019
By your presence I am bound.
it must be a great satisfaction to always know,
I am faithfully yours.
I, held open to you, as a book you could read when convenient
light skimming and waiting room sitting.
but I, being never your favorite novel,
was stuck back on the shelf full of "I'll finish it later"'s,
whilst I've written chapter upon chapter on you.
Well chapters are meant to end and books are meant to be read
                                                    Right?
I'll read my own book then
593 · Nov 2019
network busy
Lillian May Nov 2019
poems are a bit harder to write
when you dont feel music in your mind

too many tabs open

tv static for feelings

'error 404' for thoughts

poems are a bit harder to create
when you cant keep your sh*t straight
554 · May 2019
I'm torn (apart)
Lillian May May 2019
I'm torn (apart)
between
loving the big blue and green eyes that go on for miles when I look into them and the way you look at me with them in all their different flavors like curiosity and soft fondness and fire-like intensity and the way you smile with your one dimple and the way that smile tastes when you pull me in with your strong arms that I know won't let me go because under your breath you say 'mine' as you squeeze me tighter and the feeling of that breath on my skin as we sink deeper into a state of cloudy hysteria and everything in the world feels perfectly in tune as my head is on your chest and your heartbeat is the pentameter of it all.
im torn between that and
this old feeling of dread that as soon as you slip away from me I won't see you or hear your voice and yet you'll be trapped in my thoughts like a favorite song and no matter how hard I try I can't help but feeling like the tune is off somehow and I've forgotten some words but I can't think of which ones but the worst part is I feel like all this noise in my head won't be mirrored in yours and you won't hear the tune or appreciate the melody.

im torn (apart)
between
this harmony of yin and yang and you give me a head and I give you a heart and how you say "id be a cold-hearted sonofabitch without you" and when I ask if you're proud of me you say "Its rare that im not proud of you" and when I cry you look into my eyes like a blanket on an oil fire calming me down and reminding me where the ground is and you hold my hand when I'm scared and tell me "fear means youre growing, when its over you'll be glad you did it" and you push me to be bold and when you smile and tell me I slow the world down for you and that you like when I stroke your hair because you feel safe for once and how we even each other out softening rigid edges and sharpening dull blades
im torn between that and
knowing that when the harmony is askew we duel with those swords but not with each other, with our respective selves and I start wishing I wasn't too much and you beat yourself up for thinking you aren't enough and the air fills with a solid stench of resentment and confusion and im grasping frantically for answers and bandages as we both sit on the floor hemorrhaging.

I'm.
torn (apart).
between
loving you and knowing there are so many beautiful ways we're good for each other
torn between that and
wondering if that's enough to make up for the ways that we ruin the other.
and then I ask "what is love without ruin?" and "love is enough right?"
but im just
torn apart
510 · Feb 2019
in-tune
Lillian May Feb 2019
when we're so close that our lungs share air
our lips touch and we sink
down into a rhythm
perfectly in time that pentameters weep
464 · Jul 2018
watercolor paints
Lillian May Jul 2018
painting
there are so many different kinds and
so many different artists with respective training
let me tell the story of one
she liked to let go
she didn't like lines
the cloudiness of watercolor she found no woe
flowing with ease
the water went where it pleased
without tedious thought
it took the 'pain' out of painting
she was able to feel the art and the thoughts and the feelings
that art should inflict on a soul
Lillian May Jul 2018
too strong she was.
sitting
dizzily on the edge.
Do not disturb the disheveled lady,
made cynical, tottering on the ledge.
"I can't manage tonight."
said poor miss polite and reasonable.
Lillian May Jul 2018
new
unknown
change
it makes me retract
retrogress
pull away
quickly, urgently, full of fear
like a burnt hand from a flame
my daddy always said
"The burnt hand teaches best"
words I live by too
but my momma tells me not to be afraid
tells me not to let fear rule me
caution will always be the enemy of life
life with meaning anyway
but I don't know how to change my mind
because it went from eager, quixotic thoughts
to fear and what we'd almost call disgust
in a moment my brain derailed my train of thought
changed it's course
and I keep asking the conductor what's wrong, what happened
why my feelings changed, fleeted so fast
he just shrugs apathetically
we're all confused here
my heart is so pathetically delicate I think
so easily frightened
reminiscent of a fawn I imagine in my mind
and it frustrates me
mostly because I didn't used to be like this
and I don't know how to change it back
and it's my own? so why I can't seem to figure out my own inner workings is perplexing
and disgruntling
I guess the best way to describe my mind right now
would be
a confusing, fiery train wreck
just like this poem
*conductor shrugs and so do I*
393 · May 2020
you know it hurts
Lillian May May 2020
you know it hurts,
{like gut-wrenching, ab-clenching, breath lynching hurt}
when you sit in the shower and silently sob.
tears melt with water
steam clouds your sight
gaze up, let it fill your nostrils
drown in water and your plight
388 · Jun 2018
days
Lillian May Jun 2018
I like the days when the sun sings and the trees sway to the song
I like the days when the clouds laugh and the wind carries the sound
I like the days when the rain is crisp and makes you feel alive
I like the days when the storms come down and we laugh anyway
I like the days when the lightning makes porch lights seem small
I like the days when life falls away
and falls in place
even just for a moment
and the only thoughts thought
were of the days
that I like
some happy thoughts
387 · Jun 2018
the musician
Lillian May Jun 2018
a musician
a symphony
he can feel it                 finger by finger.
when he plays it he is singing it inside his mind.
          he said
"There's a pretty good chance I'll never get anywhere."
he puzzles me. he seems to have forgotten already
that he ever was such a person that may have significance.
no concept of him as he was; valuable.
          Well,
just for fun I wrote about the details of him
quiet and humble and letting the music speak for him
though he thought any voice of his small
whether from his mouth or his instrument
but I could hear him just fine
373 · May 2018
a strange feeling
Lillian May May 2018
He loves me
a love deeper than anything
a love I can't fully reciprocate
which is a strange feeling
because I'm used to
loving more
loving deeper
loving with everything
and to think
that He
loves me more than I can comprehend?
that is a strange feeling.
to be loved like that
The "He" I am referring to is my God, and savior, Jesus Christ. He has been there for me fully, completely, unwaveringly, when everyone else wasn't, or couldn't be. He is good, He is kind, He is loving. He is everything that I am. He has made me. And I love my God. But never as much as He loves me. Praise Jesus.
Lillian May Jun 2018
I would be led to dwell too heavily on
elements of wisdom or anxiety in         a
thought.
                                            well aware of the
world's enormous fund off misery, yet even so it
looked as though the status quo

is                                to
              rid                         all the hard to
understand.

but we have a long way to travel before we approach that.
hard hitting facts about a messed up world
347 · Jun 2018
daisy
Lillian May Jun 2018
Daisy
was a curious
     mind,




                     She     imagined
                           years of delightful excitement
                                       unexpected carelessness
        she was a creature of surprising energy
I wrote this and it ended up reminding me of a friend. So now I call her Daisy :)
343 · Feb 2019
Morningside Park
Lillian May Feb 2019
The
          sometimes
          tremulous
glimpses of surprise,
I think
     what a book it would make.

I hear the late afternoon cheer
         the honest type
somewhere                                                          
                  lurking behind
                                old Sixth Avenue Road.
I suppose
it is not just a phenomenon of nature that goes instinctively on,
not the appalling detail of any large human scheme, eroded by schedules
But I accept it as one of the miracles.
(Which I never see anywhere else)
336 · Jul 2018
if they, so i
Lillian May Jul 2018
whilst the plants during winter wait
they wait for warmth and springtime rain
whilst they do so,
the ground welcomes the quiet snow:
if they, so I.
the snow embraces the ground and trees
singing soft and enamoring melodies
the trees do not fret or cry spitefully,
but instead appreciate the cold beauty:
if they, so I.
there is pain in the wait, but joy as well
a chest for two reasons could easily swell
with anger or laughter and it is a choice,
we the tuners the tone of our voice:
if they, so I.
what does that mean?
why love the snow that hides summer's green?
why must we wait to enjoy the sun?
so I say, the flowers still bloom when their time come:
if they, so I.
320 · Jun 2018
brown leather shoes
Lillian May Jun 2018
a walk of cobble
the sky blue and sunbeams
draping over the scene
through leaves and branches gleam
walls of pure history
the plainest street a dream
class dancing about
thinking thoughts without
a hint of a doubt
that this place would be worthy of a story
in all of its glory
and on the page i'd pour me
and everything i am and everything
that i saw
that i felt
that i touched and smelt
holding and grasping
and clutching and clasping
onto any sensation i could get my hands on
hoping for a memory to last
so i could look onto the past
and remember it clearly
remember it dearly
forget all my worries
and the tears on my face
and my blues
and instead think of all my stories
and the places i've been and this place
well
that's where i got my brown leather shoes
A couple years ago I went to mesmerizing Sicily, and this is just a small anecdote from that sunny Sicilian day.
314 · Nov 2019
funny face
Lillian May Nov 2019
youre my photographer
and im your hepburn(or at some point in a brief glimpse to me we were these) but my face is a little funnier
and neither of us can waltz and
really we aren't even in love like them but
i do however love the sun and the rain in her (hepburn's") old Hollywood voice!
her voice was so picture perfect in that way
and I kind of want to be in love with you (minus the river and that drift wood dancing cause neither of us can dance much less to your ****** gangster rap and definitely not on driftwood) but I also think that being in love with you would be a surprising amount like waltzing to rap music on driftwood on a river
but if there's a world where hepburn has a 'funny face' then who knows maybe we could find a rhythm
or maybe we'd just get very soaked in river water
310 · Feb 2019
Untitled
Lillian May Feb 2019
dear,
shooting star
blown out birthday candles
penny in the well
my wish is to be a daydream
299 · Aug 2019
News flash
Lillian May Aug 2019
New flash.
Just because you are hurt now
In this moment
Does not mean
you can diminish the meaning or the reality
Of a love
A bond
A heart
A time
That’s shared.
Just because it’s broken now
Does not mean it always was.
Appreciate your past. It’s not bad simply because you’re sad now. It was once good, and you should appreciate that.
Lillian May May 2018
constantly caught
in contradiction
the want
to take in everything
and never close my eyes
and the longing
to keep them shut forever

i guess it's the affection
for two respective distractions
one conscious
the other not
i wish for silence as i wish for anything;
a sliver of hope
and a hefty helping of pessimistic realism

distraction from what? they ask
oh i don't know
but if i were to ponder a guess
id say mere existence
id suppose, perhaps,
a distraction from everything in me
everything in my mind
which is me in essence
what is a person without mind?
an entity of nothingness
molecules clumped together haphazardly
and meaninglessly
~
a late, sleepless night's worth of thoughts for your reading pleasure... or displeasure. that part is up to you. nevertheless here it is
287 · Jan 2020
love, you are
Lillian May Jan 2020
love, you are
so softly unbelievable.
you are so gently terrifying
and beautifully real
youre a dream in reality's clothing
with smoky eyes
and warm hands that fit mine
love, you are
such sweet silly hysteria.
chain-smoking laughter
and kissing right after
youre a tickle at the ribs
with an inside joke
and the curve of laughing lips
love, you are
porch lights through closed eyes
melodies of jazz and soft sighs
slow dancing in old jeans
making poor decisions,
and neglecting routines.
oh, love,
you are the stuff of dreams.
279 · May 2018
winter daydream
Lillian May May 2018
sweet i felt when i saw the lights
twinkling with feelings of love and romance
draped everywhere within my sight
i watched the people dance
evening set in and brighter the lights glow
beautiful all looked among the snow

winter is warm within my heart
the brick walk greeted me kindly
the whole place was a wonderful work of art
and it loved me unconfindly
the music played as i strolled along
unfamiliar and foreign but i felt that i belong

the lights shined as stars in the sky
twinkling soft and consistent and calm
they glowed so strongly yet so shy
they sang to me a song
they danced just as the people did
and from these lights reality hid

so when i think of calm and bliss
and my mind wanders away
i dream of scenes and places like this
and the smell of the warm cafe
tempted i am again for a dance
for the mood of the night that had me in a trance
278 · Jun 2018
Leo's Girl
Lillian May Jun 2018
most visitors
                   usually imagine her
as a            stranger

       Just the same, she looks. But surely
                                                     Leonardo da Vinci
would have understood her.
                             Leonardo would have relished,
                    

                                     And

                                                  remembered
269 · Jun 2018
dreamy writing, crappy guy
Lillian May Jun 2018
the amazing thing was that
he once
was crazy about you
in love as in early summer.
which every time you snap it into flame
observe little flocks of drifting evenings.
he of the strollers,
issuing the familiar cry
of hope
to me
life comes and shows itself.
268 · Aug 2018
Untitled
Lillian May Aug 2018
They call **** soul ******;
what would soul **** be?
I believe it's when another,
forces you emotionally.
when your heart needs the slow,
but that pace doesn't satisfy,
then they expect your sun to glow,
but inside only clouds can cry.
because you cannot force the clouds to part,
or change the weather with a glance,
nor should you rush a work of art,
or rely on a silly rain-dance.
264 · Jul 2019
When I think of love
Lillian May Jul 2019
When I think of love  
I think of the tiniest nothings of things that you
Will be or speak or think or do
And driving on Madison Avenue
With the moon in your eyes
And your hand on my thighs
And the sound of our safe and casual sighs
When I think of love
I blush at your perfect peculiarities
like when you grin and tickle my knees
Or grimace at my habit of drinking coffee
With one dimple on your cheek
My tickled knees go weak
Realizing love is such a casual mystique
When I think of love
I think of ours
How we share each others powers
And that I’d be content staring at you for hours
With the ups and downs
The dimpled smiles and rough-day frowns
Cause since you I’ve thought of how
I didn’t much think of love
Real love
before you were around
263 · Dec 2019
A Small Coming Of Age Story
Lillian May Dec 2019
imagine:

sitting on A stool on a stage
Small and creaky
aroma of coffee and maybe a cigar and sweet casualty in the air
imagine singing your mother’s favorite song to remember her softly
then Coming off stage
(greeted by your love poking your side so laughably irritating)
to sip a now tepid coffee, made by someone who knows your name
as you watch a neighbor go sit on the same stool
singing a song Of funny nostalgia that tickles the sides of your heart
reminding the room of our collective Age
with a chuckle and a smirk exchanged
and recounting the beautiful memories of lives lived in adjacency to one another
that makes up such a quaint Story

imagine that.
260 · Apr 2019
Notre Dame, 4.15.19
Lillian May Apr 2019
History was destroyed and made all at once today.
Notre Dame in bright, brilliant flames.
850 years of history, class trips, memories,
singed and gone.
Everything has it's time, I suppose.
But I had a friend who wanted to meet that building,
who wanted to soak in it's secrets and stories.
And now that dream is ashy and unattainable.
Spectacular spire, it fell.
And with it, our hearts.
Lillian May Feb 2019
I'm not one for Valentine's Day.
Love wrapped up and packaged into superficial nothingness
The meaning, the weight and beauty of love, made less,
stripped away and replaced with balloons and chocolates.
No
If you love someone you tell them
every
day.
Tell them with the way you look at them,
with the way you touch them,
buy her flowers because its Tuesday
dress up for him because you wanna take his breath away
all
over
again
falling in love is a whirlwind of involuntary passion
staying in love is an action
showing love is a responsibility, a choice
don't dull the song of love's voice because it shouldn't be loudest but one day a year
No
interlock your fingers and breathe each other in
not for a holiday, do it for the grin, that blooms on her face more lovely than any roses in a vase OH dear
No.
Love is not just once a year.
I love you everyday of the year.
256 · Jun 2020
Cartography
Lillian May Jun 2020
"True love"
like True North
points you in the right direction
254 · Jun 2018
Somewhat Impassive
Lillian May Jun 2018
Perhaps it was
'!~his mind~!'
with alert curiosity
(shall we call it doubt?)
that told him
'you must go to your God'
chapter name inspired by "Human Being" by Christopher Morley
252 · Sep 2019
Those were the days
Lillian May Sep 2019
The singing of their tunes
had the very accent of a peculiarly subtle and forbidden zest.
Women did a great deal of desirable ways to kick up dust.

Members of mischief,
In the business,
Just for mischief.

Enjoying a cigarette,
“Please,
Tell her I’m thought to be a
Bad Woman”
She used to smile to herself to think how much worse than that she really was.
244 · Mar 2019
tragically human
Lillian May Mar 2019
Eyes were bright and strong,
a fire.
But those words,
they turn the sharpest wit a flicker.

You ever see much esteem in the world?
Here, at the height of the ornamented, luxurious actress,
representing the varied arts of impersonation.
Here, attention before the other side of the story.

Follow the symbolic whiskey whisper.
Gently evade the central thought of the world,
so
tragically human.
243 · Jul 2018
hush
Lillian May Jul 2018
a wish
a whisper
the breath of a kiss
the way the word alone
slips off the lips
241 · May 2018
standing again
Lillian May May 2018
slowly
he plagued her thoughts less and less
the painful process
of recovery
of finding her breath again
from a love that made her feel less than she was
her thoughts of him
fewer and farther between with every sun
became muted
irrelevant to her life
sore still
and a little bit achy
but standing up
with shaky legs
and a healing heart
falling in love with herself
and her God
even more
241 · Jun 2018
contrast
Lillian May Jun 2018
It simply struck me
so delightful to
see someone
smile.
~
It is
morbid
these fits of joy
they don't last long
236 · May 2018
the unknown stars
Lillian May May 2018
the stars
otherworldly and untouchable to i
brought me to feel insignificant and far
from worthy enough to look at the sky
and yet
i feel also chosen by
those beautiful unknowns to me they lie
they evade my gaze
staying only peripherally mine
twinkling, flickering, reminiscent of a child
innocent, lovely, and wild
shadows of those jewels is all i see
of the distant stars avoiding me
233 · May 2018
Untitled
Lillian May May 2018
Sometimes
the only way to describe the sky
is that it looks like a dream
232 · Jun 2018
shoes
Lillian May Jun 2018
you can tell a lot about someone from their shoes

the well kept,
shiny,
new looking dress shoes.

the unkempt,
raggedy,
hand-me-down tennis shoes.

the classy,
black,
high-heeled stilettos.

the scuffed,
well loved,
well worn work boots.

you pictured a person in each pair didn't you?
isn't it amazing
that given only shoes
we can create a character.
random thoughts.
Lillian May May 2019
I saw a young man working in a Kroger a few a-little-while's ago.
He was putting bananas in the designated banana display,
and as I passed he smiled to me,
In such a kind, purely, beautifully,
human
manner. And I smiled back,
as one does,
matching his sincerity I hoped, or what I perceived as sincerity
and anyway he spoke.
Saying hello and inquiring if I was well and I responded that I was and returned the question.
To which he looks around at his current state; being surrounded by a staggering amount of bananas and shrugs and says "having a blast". Which I find humorous,
as one does.
I laugh and he laughs and I continue shopping. I weave through the isles leisurely because it's past 11pm in a small town Kroger and I wasn't quite ready to leave for whatever reason.
And
I see the pleasant blonde banana Kroger worker get up and proceed to dance to 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot" in a tall uncoordinated jig, singing into a banana which sounds too story-book to be true but alas.
And
I remember tilting my head involuntarily as a look of curious fondness swept my face.
And
and I love human moments like this because they're still and unchangingly pleasant, full of what if scenarios for late night can't-sleep thinking.
I left.

Well around Easter time,
or
well actually precisely on Easter, in the afternoon time I stand checking out my groceries in the self-scanner
as one does
and I see this fascinating young man
yet again,
this time clad in a bunny ears headband, which I find endearing. And I stare a little longer than I probably should have, more than likely wearing a complexly fond expression
yet again.
He meets my dreamy gaze and
surprisingly hold the eye contact for a moment longer than I would normally grant strangers. As we were on our way out he said goodbye to my group.
And, once again, I left.
Left wondering what would have happened if I went up to bunny banana boy and exchanged pleasantries and names
Left wondering if the goodbye was directed to me or everyone
Left wondering if I should shop at Kroger more.
226 · Feb 2019
once again
Lillian May Feb 2019
once again you were my stars
every time i saw you i was filled with new wonder
i could stare at you for hours and never be bored
i've written poems about stars before

and once again i was just
well what was i?
what clever metaphor is there for nothing?

i suppose to you i was like a comet.
beautiful, awe-inspiring for a moment.
you couldn't get enough of the sight of me
and then gone from your gaze.

but really im the stars
you just closed your eyes.
Lillian May May 2018
the air is cold
the sky is dark
and im on a roof.
i look out and see the city lights
steady and stable
shining with human determination
and inovation
and the silhouette of bleakness
that is hushed from our lips
and i think
"there is nothing more beautiful than this..."

the air is clear
the sky is pure black
and im in a field.
i look up and see the stars
distant and free
glimmering with higher meaning
and beauty
and the quiet sound of our oblivion
for the city now seems small
and i think
"there is nothing more beautiful than this..."
209 · Sep 2019
and the rest is history
Lillian May Sep 2019
There was a silence.
                 Oh, if he would only be hers entirely;
       not by poor surreptitious evasion but in fulness and in fact.
He had understood her pause.
                "I'm good."  she said with apparent carelessness.
She found it difficult to keep her voice just on the casual note she wanted.
he thought to himself: she's different from me, she's romantic.
                "You just don't trust yourself with me around." he said.
                "It seems a bit funny, we both always knew, but honest I hadn't realized you were beautiful."
                "You're a great kidder."
Oh God, she asked herself, have I handled this right?
leaning on the door jam his body in perfect chiaroscuro
and an omniscient grin
And the rest is history.
...
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