Send my muse a “〼” and my muse will give your muse a page from their diary.
There was suspicion written in her expression,
eyes visibly dulled with a half-lidded gaze…
Yes she kept a diary. For years infact.
That didn’t mean she liked sharing her thoughts.
With hesitance she turned about on her heel,
entering a portion of her little abode that he could not see.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t hear.
The sound of wood being pulled up,
creaking until silence returned to the air.
What she returned with was a leather-bound book,
flipping through pages, the little bird found the most recent entry she could live with him seeing.
And obediently, it was offered.
§- One way or another,
I’m always serving s o m e o n e.
But this is quite different,
—; “I want to hear you”
I’ve never met someone who could seize me in 5 words or less.
But then again, I’ve never been more terrified and happy to hear them.
Because nothing has made me feel more
and without a care in the world for anything more
than the need to hear those words!
What a truly magnificent and horrible thing this is…