Lyrics and Poetry
It was driving her absolutely mad. The lingering touches, the looks, the smiles—until one day she couldn't take it anymore. Myka could not stand one more of Helena's 'flirtations.' Either they were real and they could explore that together, or they weren't and Myka would have to distance herself. She was confident that wasn't the case though: the way Helena looked at her, especially when she thought Myka wasn't watching her. There was no mistaking that look. But Myka had to be sure.
She came into Artie's office determined to confront Helena about her feelings. Claudia sat at her computer with her headphones on. Helena was seated at the table, looking resplendent as always. Myka glanced at Claudia and missed the light that came into Helena's face when she saw Myka.
"Good morning, Myka." Helena practically sang.
Myka turned her attention to Helena and the smile that she bore. "Morning, Helena." Myka grinned back. She fell into that warm smile and lost her nerve. She couldn't stand the thought of having to stay away from Helena. A sweet torture was better than the emptiness of her absence.
Claudia looked over her shoulder and smiled wickedly at Myka. She fiddled with her ipod and yanked off her headphones. Myka sat across the table from Helena, glancing sideways at the woman who in turn kept her eye on Myka. Claudia giggled to herself at the song she'd chosen.
"What's so funny?" Myka asked, self-conscious.
"Oh nothing. Just a good song. You'll like it. Listen." Claudia grinned at Myka as she turned up the speakers.
i'Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends'/i Myka gave Claudia a look. Claudia just smiled her angelic puppy dog eyes.
i'You're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I won't get out alive.'/i
Helena touched Myka's hand gently; she actually jumped. Myka had gaped inwardly at the lyrics, and how they mirrored what she felt. She hadn't expected Helena's touch. Myka looked at Helena's fingers resting delicately on her hand and blushed. She met Helena's eyes and smiled instinctively. Helena smiled, her eyes playful, as she rubbed Myka's hand with her finger. "It's alright darling, let her have her fun," she said quietly. "It's a lovely song, Claudia."
Claudia's impish grin grew. "Oh, this is the best part." She turned the speakers up more.
i'What are you waiting for? Take a bite of my heart tonight.'/i
Myka sighed and focused on Helena's fingers idly playing on her hand. iWhat ARE you waiting for, Myka?/i She looked at Helena with a slight cringe. Helena smiled sweetly at her. Myka turned her hand palm up without realizing it. Helena took the opportunity to slip her hand into Myka's. She felt a nervous tremble come over Myka and squeezed softly to try to calm her down.
i'It's getting heavy and I wanna run and hide, I wanna run and hide, I do it every time.'/i
iOh for God's sake./i Myka did want to run and hide, but she couldn't let go of Helena's hand. She traced the supple curve of Helena's lips with her eyes; Helena drew small circles on the back of Myka's hand with her thumb.
The music faded into the background as Myka and Helena focused on each other. Trading gazes and wandering glances over the other's body. Claudia watched them both excitedly; they so obviously wanted each other. Maybe now Myka would finally say something.
Myka licked her lips while staring at the freckles on Helena's neck, like a bread crumb trail begging to be kissed, leading up to her ear or down to her— Myka shook her head as she realized she was staring at Helena's chest. Helena chuckled to herself, Myka's interest had not gone unnoticed. And Helena herself was paying particular attention to the porcelain skin exposed by Myka's V neck.
Myka looked up into Helena's eyes. Her intense chestnut eyes were almost black and her smile betrayed her lascivious thoughts. Her laugh rang in Myka's ears like a siren's song. Helena squeezed Myka's hand with a grin. Myka squeezed back at first, indulging in the comfortable feel of Helena's hand in hers. She looked at Helena, the sparkle in those dark eyes and was struck by a sudden realization—she didn't just like Helena, she was in love with her. Her hand fell limp in Helena's and her eyes went wide. She couldn't say anything now, there was too much to risk losing. Helena saw the look on her face and eased back. Myka stood up and ran from the room. Claudia called after her.
"Let her go, Claudia. It's alright. She has to come around on her own time. You can't rush her by meddling." She gave Claudia a pointed look.
"But it's so obvious!"
Helena smiled. "She will come to me in her own time. Be patient, darling."
Myka fell onto her bed almost in tears. Now what was she going to do? She stared up at the ceiling, her mind racing. Okay, she loved Helena, not that bad. iShe likes you too./i But did she really? And how much? Myka remembered the look on Helena's face as she pulled back. It wasn't pain or rejection, but worry and... Fear. Myka sat up. Fear of what?
That you don't feel the same way she does. That she pushed you too far.
She idoes/i like you, Myka.
But she had to be sure.
She'd never be able to say it aloud though. To ask that question to Helena's face, she'd not be able to survive if she said no. Myka sat at her desk and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. She stared at the blank page, she had to choose her words carefully; be concise, clear, but leave herself room to retreat if things went sour. Myka began draft after draft only to scrap them all within a sentence or two. Exasperated, Myka sunk back in her chair. Maybe she'd be able to use someone else's words. Poetry always sounded better anyway. Myka pulled an anthology from her bookcase and lay down on the bed.
When Helena came to bed Myka's light was off. She hadn't seen the other woman all day after the debacle with Claudia. It had hurt a little. Not just that Myka had run from her, but that she'd avoided her all day. It hurt most that Myka wasn't talking to her about what was wrong. She passed Myka's door with a sigh and a lingering step. iShe'll come to you when she's ready, Helena./i
Helena closed her bedroom door and wiped her eyes. "You see it in her eyes, Helena. Just give her time." Her attention was drawn to a small envelope on the bed. It was inscribed with her name in what was clearly Myka's handwriting. Helena walked over and picked it up; lifting it to her face she took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. The paper held just a hint of Myka's scent; she smiled. Perhaps it was only fair, had she not once fled Myka's presence and left a love note? She removed the letter and read it. Slowly she sat on the edge of the bed and reread the poem.
How can I express all the things I ought
To say, in lines so strict and binding tight?
The use of rhyme to show my deepest thought
Is foolish, but I thought I ought to fight
These doubts, and tell you how you make me feel.
I see you every night in dreams so clear
I'm always led to believe that they're real -
Until my heart feels dawn's cruel piercing spear.
Alas, these dreams are all I so far have,
Not having met you in the light of day.
I need you to know you're the one I love;
With silent lips I try again to say...
My Aphrodite, you know I love you -
Now I ask you this: Do you love me too?
"That's why you ran." It had not been what she'd expected, a proclamation of that ilk. Helena smiled once it sunk in—Myka loved her. And she, of course, loved Myka. Now she had to tell her. She would reply in kind, and hope that once given an answer Myka would be open to a more intimate expression of her affection. Helena took a seat at her desk and put pen to paper with a smile.
Myka woke with a pit in her stomach. Today she could end up heartbroken. She would find out exactly how Helena felt about her. She wasn't sure if she could stand to be around her if Helena didn't have feelings for her too, to have her always so close, but perpetually out of reach would be torture. Myka let her thoughts eat at her a little more before she could resist getting out of bed no longer.
After showering, she stalled as much as possible, avoiding the world—avoiding Helena. Finally she gave in with a sigh, knowing she'd have to face her. She noticed a small piece of paper on the floor in front of her door. 'Myka' was written on it in the most elegant calligraphy. Her heart skipped a beat. She picked it up and ran her finger over the ink. Her name was written in a brilliant peacock blue. It was stunningly beautiful. She flipped it over in her hands; the back sealed with a dollop of red wax with an H pressed into it. The woman knew how to make an impression. Myka broke the seal and unfolded the paper. Inside was a poem in Helena's gorgeously refined handwriting. She read the first line and sought her bed as her legs started to give. Could it really be?
I love your throat, so fragrant, fair,
The little pulses beating there;
Your eye-brows' shy and questioning air;
I love your shadowed hair.
I love your flame-touched ivory skin;
Your little fingers frail and thin;
Your dimple creeping out and in;
I love your pointed chin.
I love the way you move, you rise;
Your fluttering gestures, just-caught cries;
I am not sane, I am not wise,
God! how I love your eyes!
It was. Helena loved her too. Myka grinned and a tear fell down her cheek. Now she knew.
Myka came bounding into the dining room on light feet. "Good morning everyone!" Her grinning gaze lingered on Helena.
"Good morning, darling." Helena beamed at her.
Myka looked over at Claudia and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Uh...no problem, Myka."
Myka released Claudia and took a seat next to Helena. She tentatively took Helena's hand under the table. Helena smiled and entwined their fingers. "You have beautiful penmanship," Myka smirked.
Helena laughed, that wasn't what she'd expected Myka to say. "Thank you. Yours is lovely as well." She squeezed Myka's hand.
Leena served breakfast, but Myka and Helena were too interested in each other to take much notice. "Helena, can I speak with you in the hall?" Myka stood up, letting go of Helena's hand.
"Of course, darling." Helena was fast on Myka's heels.
Myka leaned against the wall, when Helena came close—as Myka knew she would—Myka slid her arms around her waist and pulled her body against her own.
Helena smiled into those shining green eyes as she placed her hands on Myka's hips. "Now, that does feel good."
Myka's eye twinkled. "But this will feel better." She leaned forward and pressed her lips against Helena's. Helena's grip on her hips tightened. Her head spun. Myka pulled her even closer, holding her tighter. She made a happy noise in her throat as Helena settled against her. Myka pulled back, out of breath; the most brilliant smile on her face.
"It did indeed." Helena grinned at her. "Oh Myka," she touched a hand to Myka's cheek. "I've wanted this for so long."
Myka blushed a little. "Me too. I was just scared. If you had said 'no,'" she stopped, her eyes welling up. "I don't know that I could have gone on here. Seeing you everyday, it would have been too hard."
Helena smiled warmly at her and wiped away a tear with her thumb. "Myka, how could you ever have doubted I love you?"
Myka studied those dark eyes—she didn't have an answer. How could she have ever looked in Helena's eyes and doubted that she loved her. "I don't know." Her voice was small, almost embarrassed.
Helena caressed her cheek. "It doesn't matter now, Myka. Don't worry about it. I love you, always be certain of that."
Myka smiled, leaning her cheek into Helena's hand. "And I love you, Helena. Always."
Helena was radiant. "Say those words often. But not right now." She kissed Myka deeply, teasing her lips with her tongue until Myka finally invaded her mouth. Helena pressed against Myka for support as her knees trembled.
"What are they doing out there?" Pete asked.
"Why don't you go check." Claudia fought back a laugh.
"Fine. I will." Pete dropped his fork and went to poke his head around the corner. His jaw dropped and he watched for a moment before it felt awkward. He returned to the table with a grin on his face. Claudia smirked up at him. "'Bout damn time."
"All due to my meddling." Pete gave Claudia a high five.
"Am I missing something?" Artie asked confused.
oh, the poems are real. Aphrodite by Zarre and You by Angelina Weld Grimke