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Let (1 Viewer)

Nate Gallon

Senior Member
I want you to be proud of me.
So proud you don't have to say it.
Let not sullen words intercept your love, but the body that is I and the people who we meet, both mutely chirping like hens who hop for seed, who share same taste in beauty and see what the other sees, let us.

Do not interrupt your amor, for grim displays; Do not, for my desire and mercy, neglect my puzzling heresies of seeming lunacy.
Seam what I can't sow and believe my rueful words.
Don't believe a lie, but see what I may mean and be; remind what I may feel.
Remind yourself.

I want you to see you've fed me, sufferably, under metaphoric storms of despair, a motive I could turn into a gift.
A desire I could give to you that was once mine.
To do and write for certain people; a way to feel accomplished amidst the the doubt and chic lies I tell myself.

To impress a certain person is all the desire I own.
To present a thing that I've created, tailored, and cried over to a person who I can trust, for owning it.
It is their's and it's made for them.
They own it.
My let.