Lauren O'Neill's Works

Lights

Description: From the prompt about Devon's Poem, Stars.

We lay in the grass, looking up at the stars. Polar white little things, shimmering down at us across the blue and purple sky. I want to hold your hand, but I'm afraid of what you'll think. There's a light behind your eyes, brighter than the solar specks you watch with awe. A constellation of tears dot your eyelashes, and I cannot tell if they were brought on by sadness or beauty or joy. You're like a book written in a foreign language. I try to grasp what you need, but it's lost in translation. I feel like a light at the end of a far away tunnel, blinking at you in the hopes of gaining your attention. I wish your light would blink back to let me know you're okay. You live in your own little world, so unaware. You turn to look to me, a lazy smile on your face, and I finally gain the courage to entwine my fingers through yours. Your reaction surprises me. You don't pull back, you don't cry out. You just move closer and close your sleepy eyes. Fireflies dance around your face, faint light brightening your rosy cheeks from the chill of the night. You're snoozing lightly now, your hand still clasped in mine. And now I know you'll be okay, because I'll never let your light die.