Maea
give me shelter, or show me heart
She held him close, stroked his hair, and wondered what it was about this man that had not been enough for Phoebe. What it was the woman had felt the need to change. His drinking? The amount of cigarettes he smoked in a day? The incessant need for freedom, restlessly needing to know what was beyond the next hill? Maea supposed they could be terrifying things all in their own ways. Probably she was hosting her own little campaigns against his bad habits - especially the smoking - but it was a quiet battle, more a teasing, prodding suggestion that she would prefer it if he cut back... mostly for his own sake. And because her clothes smelled. But to force him into some mold? That Maea could not understand.
When he lifted her chin, gazed at her like he was looking for answers, Maea smiled at him. Understood what he meant, somewhat. "Thank you. And if you need them, I'll give you all my cookies," she told him, taking the analogy and running off with it. "And then I'll make more. And your teeth will probably fall out, because they will be awful, but you can have as many as you want." Because that was how she was. Either nothing or everything. She couldn't love by half, give only half, take only a little. Maea wanted all of him, and was ready to give him all of her - had done so, already, with reckless abandon - and she would keep giving until there was nothing left. And then still keep trying, as long as there was breath in her.
"If anything... I'm mostly afraid that I won't be enough for you," she breathed, in the confession of a lifetime. And perhaps he might know what she was thinking of, when her eyes flitted down to his neck, to his wrists, to the scars of old passion that littered his skin. There were things she was not prepared to offer, or give up, or share... and she was very much afraid to become a stick in the mud, boring and constricting for it.
When he lifted her chin, gazed at her like he was looking for answers, Maea smiled at him. Understood what he meant, somewhat. "Thank you. And if you need them, I'll give you all my cookies," she told him, taking the analogy and running off with it. "And then I'll make more. And your teeth will probably fall out, because they will be awful, but you can have as many as you want." Because that was how she was. Either nothing or everything. She couldn't love by half, give only half, take only a little. Maea wanted all of him, and was ready to give him all of her - had done so, already, with reckless abandon - and she would keep giving until there was nothing left. And then still keep trying, as long as there was breath in her.
"If anything... I'm mostly afraid that I won't be enough for you," she breathed, in the confession of a lifetime. And perhaps he might know what she was thinking of, when her eyes flitted down to his neck, to his wrists, to the scars of old passion that littered his skin. There were things she was not prepared to offer, or give up, or share... and she was very much afraid to become a stick in the mud, boring and constricting for it.
watch me fall apart
and I'll be yours to keep
and I'll be yours to keep
