(no subject)
After you fell asleep I dreamed of you, as if the threads of your magic had twisted around my mind and taken me from this place. We passed through streets bright with gold and red mosaics and Gothic architecture, and explored ruined buildings, climbing staircases and sitting close in the warm sun, your arms around mine warmer than the summer wind. Who can dream lonely or dark with you there, like a shield around me?
"I'm sorry if I'm needy," I said, but you smoothed my hair away from my face and kissed my forehead, smiling in your eyes. "You don't need me," you said, "but everyone gets tired of holding up the sky sometimes. You don't need to hold up the sky. Just hold on. You are strong, why do you forget?"
It was warm in my dream of you, as warm as this room is cold, and though you said to me yesterday you haven't done anything special, sometimes you are the only reason I can find to keep fighting that doesn't slip through my fingers when I try to hold on to it. Why should I have to explain to you why you mean so much to me? You are the stars, reminding me the night is not always dark, nor always an evil.
To you I am indebted, and someday I will repay you for giving yourself to me so unquestioningly, never asking what I am going to do with you now that you have climbed the stairs to my tower and taken up a secret residence in my poetry, my metaphors, my sleep.
I intend to do you honor, sir knight. That is how kings repay kindness.
"I'm sorry if I'm needy," I said, but you smoothed my hair away from my face and kissed my forehead, smiling in your eyes. "You don't need me," you said, "but everyone gets tired of holding up the sky sometimes. You don't need to hold up the sky. Just hold on. You are strong, why do you forget?"
It was warm in my dream of you, as warm as this room is cold, and though you said to me yesterday you haven't done anything special, sometimes you are the only reason I can find to keep fighting that doesn't slip through my fingers when I try to hold on to it. Why should I have to explain to you why you mean so much to me? You are the stars, reminding me the night is not always dark, nor always an evil.
To you I am indebted, and someday I will repay you for giving yourself to me so unquestioningly, never asking what I am going to do with you now that you have climbed the stairs to my tower and taken up a secret residence in my poetry, my metaphors, my sleep.
I intend to do you honor, sir knight. That is how kings repay kindness.