talk about us - freedomborne
talk about us – @freedomborne
What they define their relationship with your muse as:
‘ We have stepped over so many lines, shared things unspoken, that I do not believe there shall ever be a word for what we are. But it is enough, and I am glad for it. ’
Something they like about your muse:
‘ Who cannot help but admire a man who would know the consequences, and still walk the path? So rare is it to see some one stand so stalwart and sure upon the precipice. To jump not without fear of the fall, but because it is what you chose. None save yourself could ever change the course you have chosen. You are the very mountains, who care so little for the whims of gods. It is no wonder they fear you. ’
Something they dislike about your muse:
‘ Your opinions are your own, I can neither blame you nor wish to change them – but the surety which strengthens you with one hand, blinds you with the other. I fear there will be many choices in the days to come which may lead you to despise me, for you cannot see those we fight as more than the hand which bound us and beat us. I can only hope that when the time comes - you will trust me.’
Their first impression of your muse:
‘ When first I saw you - you were power given flesh, and in that moment I knew why the dragon is the form of Gods. For you were a God to me in that moment, and I felt a great anger that any would dare chain you. That they would dare think they could hold this will, this desire to live at bay with paltry locks and bars.
You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I was in awe. ’
Their impression of your muse now:
‘ I am happier to know the man, than the God I met in the cell that day. I have never met some one as true, as stubborn, or as steady of heart as you. You waste not a motion, not a touch or word, and I find in you the soul of all I hope to achieve. It is through you that I find the strength to reach, to give of myself as much as I can, even as I selfishly turn toward you for comfort. I know it is a weight, and it is unfair of me to place it on you, but I can think of no one better to share this burden with. ’
How they feel about your muse:
‘ Are there words for such a thing? If so I do not know them. I would fight for you, die for you, live beside you. In my heart I shall carry you long after we are turned to dust and our memories are forgotten stories told to children.’
Something they are hiding from your muse:
‘ How many times have I dreamed of something more between us? How grateful I am that you cannot walk the dreaming or you might spy my desire that we might know each other not as revolutionaries, as people in arms, but in love. Yet even with such feeling I would betray you in a moment for them, for this rebellion. And with these bloody hands I still wish I could touch your face and tell you of this secret. What a selfish and terrible woman I am to dare to call this love. ’
Something they wish they could to tell your muse:
‘ I wish nothing more to live beside you for as long as you would let me. That you might let it be me who carries your troubles, who eases your heart aches, and welcome you in the dawn light. It has always been you, alone, in my heart and when we part you shall live there still. I love you, and I always will. ’
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