Muse 73: Lean on Me

found via lauryn holmquist

I was worried the first time she asked me to bring her out. "I'm ready, James," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. I hated when she did that. That starry, misty eyed gaze, coupled with her soft lips drove me insane and I couldn't say no. So I said yes and we drove to the beach that she loved so much. She wore her white sundress that looked more like a slip than something presentable. I pushed her around in her wheelchair, and she looked as heavenly as an angel. Then the wheels started to slow down and it became harder to push through the wet sand. 

Amy sighed. "Help me, James. I want to try." 

A part of me didn't want her to try at all. I thought if she got up, it would be like the blind seeing again. There was a world out there, a world so tantalizing that she would run free from her cage, like a bird and never return. She wobbled slowly like an calf steadying itself for the first time. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the armrest tightly, and waited. "James?" 

"Hm?" 

"Help me." 

She took my hands and guided them to her waist. "I can't walk without you," she said softly, not daring to take a step and letting her entire weight rest in my weak arms. 

Muse 48: Hypocrite

unknown

You are so small, he said. Where will you go and how will you get there with those feet? Someone can come and take you away, carry your small frame like the wind carries the leaves. All she could do was smile in reply, in agreement, as he rambled on about her size and frail form that would snap under any pressure. They walked, and he said, You need to be careful, you're so tiny that anyone could hurt you. He said this adamantly, and she merely smiled knowingly. They came to a fork in the road where he gave her a hug, Well here is where I say goodbye, and they parted, and she returned alone.