Where do you hide
Your heart away,
Where do you keep
It locked?

Where does it breathe
To beat again,
Or hadn’t it known
A thing
As such?

Where do you keep
Your heart to stay,
And can you still hear what it says?
Can you still discern
Its screaming concern
Or shut out its voice
As it dies away?

I hear that you lock it
To oceans away
Where never it sees
The light of the day.
Tell, does your heart
Really want it this way,
Or only you wish,
In agony, pray?

Where do you keep
Your heart away?
What does it wish,
What does it say?
And do you discern,
That’s not the concern,
But why do you hide
Your heart
Away?

I think I’m gonna try writing regularly again. I said “I think.” I don’t know. This one… well, it’s practice. I’ve tried something with a little rhyme.

I wonder if raindrops try
To sneak in my window without knowing
I would let them in if they knock.

They can tell me stories of
The sky and of the sun;
Of how they manage fame in poets’ names,
How they feel about being lines
In verses that promise a beauty without
Compensation for falling, ever-falling.

I wonder if raindrops cry
For the competition, or thankful enough
That they can kiss the clouds in a moment,
And feel the embrace of the earth in another,
Or taste the sweet fragrance of flourishing grass,
Just about to open their eyes, greeting morning,
If they’re lucky enough to be friends with the wind.

I wonder if raindrops sigh, unnoticed,
Though they seem to rejoice in the thought.
I open my windows and share their contentment,
Singing and dancing our way through the night.

II. Her // First Person.

“…not only do you need to answer it; I would need proof that shows your answer as true.”

The words, they echo in my head. Give it a little more time and I may break into a sad song. I had a choice between yes and no. Either way, I lose.

“I get it. If I say no then you’d expect me to die. If I say yes, then you’d expect me to live… without you.” I took a deep breath. “Time?”

“A month.”

How long do I have to play these games?

What makes it worse is that he always serves these questions as if they were as easy as breakfast-in-bed. I still remember the first one.

“How do you make the greenest leaf glow like crystals?”

“And why do I have to answer that?”

“It is for you to understand.”

“This place, Crystal Leaf, got it’s name because of our ancestors’ amazement with this town’s weather. No matter how snowy or rainy or cloudy the weather could be, the sun always manages to shine through every morning. The sunlight touches the ice-wrapped leaves in the morning; thus, the Crystal Leaves.”

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Just like you.”

I have heard those lines a hundred times before, but he always manages to make me feel like he said it just now, for the first time.

“You have to go. I know. I understand.”

“The protection of this town means as much to me as protecting you, Lyra.”

And away he went. To the border. To the war that seemed to never end. The memories are still fresh… as fresh as the images of his wounds when he came back home. Sometimes I wish my memory wasn’t so sharp.

But this… This was different. Although he kept his cool, I can feel it.

“…not only do you need to answer it; I would need proof that shows your answer as true…”

“I understand. You have to go away again.”

“No, you don’t. Not until I ask this: Can you live without me, Lyra?”

Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes into hours.

“No. No, I can’t.”

“You still don’t understand, Lyra. You have to answer ‘yes’ on this one.”