Hold Me While You Wait

32|mysteries of everything we've ever been

mysteries of everything we've ever been

"You did a good job with the garden Elis," Gray articulated.

She was all the way on the balcony, while Elis lazily sprawled out on her bed.

The curly haired girl had been thinking of what she discussed with her mother in the morning. Or maybe discuss wasn't the right verb, as Elis had opposed the idea of refurnishing Bryson's room at any cost. But the more Elis pondered over it, the more she began to think of the situation in different perspectives too, where she not only put herself in the centre of her grief.

"Thanks," Elis sighed.

"The soil looks good, but do you think it'll ever be as fertile anymore?" Gray thoughtfully asked, but Elis released an audible breath instead of providing an actual answer.

"What are you thinking of?" Gray asked, walking back into the room. She could tell that there was something bothering Elis, so the ginger girl awaited an answer as she sat cross legged on the bed.

Elis reached for a cigarette and a lighter on the counter, handing the lighter to Gray, as the ginger girl flicked the device on to let the smoke catch fire. It was an unwritten norm between both girls, one of the things they'd wish to practice in shortly upcoming time.

"It's my mom," Elis answered, blowing the smoke out after a long drag. "She wants to change Bryson's bedroom into a room where she'll put all my paintings from younger years," the taller girl said. "Like an art gallery or something."

"An art gallery? That's amazing. It will be my first time being in one and the nicest part about it? I won't have to pay!"

"You're kind of missing the point," Elis interjected, taking a longer drag as she looked at the glow in the ginger girl's brown eyes. It was those eyes that have hastily taken over her soul, painfully so, that Elis had nothing more to surrender into the astonishing gorgeousness of her as a whole.

"But it sounds amazing. An art gallery in a lake house? I'm tempted to ask your mom to let me move here while you are gone."

"Gray--"

"This is all just wonderful, Elis," the ginger girl smiled. "It means I'll get to see all your beautiful artwork that you'll paint soon."

"I don't paint anymore," Elis's voice was a volume louder, looking at anywhere that wasn't Gray's face. "I thought you knew that by now."

Gray's smile fell just a bit, but she looked at Elis with unweaving hope. She was so confident that Elis would paint again. And even if she wouldn't be there to see it, the ginger girl still trusted that day to come.

"Maybe your past work will inspire you again?"

"Not when it's in what used to be Bryson's room. It's the fact that mom will get rid of everything that belongs to him that I don't like."

"But the room isn't being used for anything anymore," Gray replied. "It's understandable what your mom wants to do. And I know you think it's not okay but when will it ever be if that room is always locked and nobody wants to go into it anymore?"

Elis dragged more of the smoke, the ginger girl's words basically backing what her mother said that morning. However still being majorly against it, the curly haired girl began to wonder if that was what Bryson would want too.

"I actually brought you something today..." Gray trailed off, a small smile on her face as she reached into the pocket of her sweater, taking out a folded paper.

"The poem?" Elis asked, a smile forming on her face as she sat up and out what was left of the cigarette away.

"Yes," Gray nodded, holding the paper out to Elis.

"I'm excited to read it," she said, an effortless smile on her face.

The curly haired girl began unfolding it in anticipation of reading the wonderful words Elis was sure she had written. Because whatever thought Gray would put to paper would become a wonderful masterpiece of the world.

"Your poem was beautiful, if I haven't told you that before," Gray shifted closer to Elis, lying down on the bed next to older girl. And Elis held her closer as she smiled down at her, accepting the feeling of so much warmth.

"It must've been beautiful," Elis then said, a smile resting on her face. "I was writing about you, after all."

"You're so intriguing," Gray breathed. "All the time."

Elis smiled at the ginger girl one more time before fully unfolding the poem, revealing curvy letters traced in black ink. And as she took the words in, Elis hadn't ever been exposed to such exceptional piece of poetry before, which, at the end, simply meant more to her than any other literature writing she's ever read.

I exist not in a world where thee isn't who I need.
Love isn't love, if thy's not in.
And tis by thy being that my soul wanders so free.
And by thee that my world feel so big.
So with all thy words and all thy heart,
all thy will and all thy might,
Thy love never fail to pull me in deep.
So forget thy pain and free our souls,
to the outside world of which we are owed.
Take all, everything, that I am not whole.
And that I am thee such to the point you are me.
That I am thee not that I love but I am free...
And I am thee that with you I become me.