November 3, 2011

Late Rehearsals Are Killing You

   I hate those deeply carved hollows beneath your eyes. They seem to sneer out at me, in contrast with your steel blue eyes. A violent shade of purple, they taunt me with the physical reminder of how exhausted you truly are.
   As I arrive in the morning, you cannot even get off your feet to greet me, but rather beg me silently with those incredibly expressive eyes to sit beside you. I do, and you say hello with a weak smile and a soft "Morning Sweetie". Your face is distant and blank however, and as you lean your head against my shoulder, I can see how desperately you want to give in to the lethargy.
   Gently, I place my hand over yours, and as your thumb curls around it (you have enormous hands!) I notice how sluggish your movements are. I try to be chipper in my words, but you simply moan and close your eyes. You apologize, but as I see the complete draining of energy in your face, it becomes superfluous. I lean forward so I have a better view of your face, and the dark curtain of my hair swishes to block out the world. My own voice softens to a soothing tone, hardly more than a whisper as I tell you it'll be alright.
   You smile a little, and open your shockingly bright eyes again, gazing into mine. "I know it will," you reply in a low whisper. "I have you here."
   I kiss your forehead lovingly, and even though I loath the indolence you exhibit, I know that I will be there for you. Whether it's Shakespeare or a living person draining you, I will be there for you.

Love, Lilah Belle

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