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Post by Poet on Sept 13, 2009 1:28:28 GMT -5
Poet's own personal room, the most likely place to find her if you need her help or assistance in any situation, even if you just want to stop by and say Hi.
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Post by Poet on Sept 19, 2009 1:01:08 GMT -5
She lie on her bed her eyes staring up at the ceiling, her hands resting on her stomach as she felt it move up and down with every intake of air and every exhaled breath. She thought hard to herself, wishing Irish would stop by, Jack maybe, or even Spot,Hawkeye or Malleus, she just wanted a male figure to talk to. Poet would never fully admit it but she communicated better with the opposite gender and it made her feel special. She hadn't left her room yet this morning, she had heard her newsies leave to start their day of selling or other various activity and she was still lying in bed at almost noon. She closed her eyes counting her breathing, 1..2...3...4...5... forget it, nothing could take her mind off anything. She rolled over onto her side and rested her hands underneath her head as she stared at the wall, her back to the door. She could feel her stomach churning and growling in hunger, and slight disrupting pain but she ignored it. She knew she had to be pale, and she was on the vurge of hurling but could hold it back as long as she kept calm. She began counting the nicks in the wall....1..2..3..4...5..no good.
She hadn't slept in days, every time she closed her eyes, his face, his eyes, his smile, his scent filled her mind. She shook her head and kept counting 6..7...screw it. She groaned as she curled up so her knees were against her chest practically lying in the fetal position. She wondered if anyone would get concerned and come to check on her, or if she would go all day without a singl solitary knock on her door.
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Post by Irish on Sept 19, 2009 13:38:37 GMT -5
Irish tapped his fist on the door, balancing the tray on his other arm. "'Ello, Poet? Oi brought you some food..." he said, opening the door and sliding into her room. It was dark. "Why don't you have the curtains open, love?" He asked, flicking them open quickly. "Some of the lads told me you didn't eat anythin' today, so Oi brought you this lovely tray of your favorites." He set the tray down on the small table and sat in the one lonesome chair by it. He looked at her and smiled. "You looke very much like hell, love. And Oi mean that in the ebst way possible." He laughed, winking. "Now, why did you lock yourself up here? It ain't like you, Poet."
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Post by Poet on Sept 19, 2009 14:00:19 GMT -5
Poet was afraid to look at him. She curled herself up tighter for a moment as she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. She didn't know what to say, the last she had seen him was a few days ago when she asked him to be hers and he said yes. She groaned softly as she felt her head begin throbbing with pain. She rolled over to face him and looked into his eyes momentarily,"I.....dunno.."she murmured. She knew she felt ill but she wasn't sure if it was a reaction of her mind telling her body to get sick because she couldn't handle her problems.
She closed her eyes for a moment wondering if she was running a fever, wondering if she'd even want to eat with the fear of it coming back up. She opened her eyes again to look at him and she extended a hand to him wanting him to take it, all she wanted was for him to stay with her for at least a few hours, but she knew he would probably have to leave her to go work. She tilted her head and looked at him still,"I really...don't feel good.."she muttered.
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Post by Irish on Sept 19, 2009 14:22:02 GMT -5
She closed her eyes for a moment wondering if she was running a fever, wondering if she'd even want to eat with the fear of it coming back up. She opened her eyes again to look at him and she extended a hand to him wanting him to take it, all she wanted was for him to stay with her for at least a few hours, but she knew he would probably have to leave her to go work. She tilted her head and looked at him still,"I really...don't feel good.."she muttered.
Irish looked at her. He crossed over to her and felt her forehead. "You're not hot. What's wrong? Do you just want some broth to eat?" he asked her, sitting gently on her bed. "Come on Poet, you can't keep yourself all the time." Irish whispered. "Oi don't like seein' you like this, lass."
He sighed and sat back in the chair, he leaned back on the legs and felt suddenly very old. What was wrong with this girl? You'd think she'd be happy after what they said to each other not long ago.
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Post by Poet on Sept 19, 2009 14:53:05 GMT -5
She shook her head and closed her eyes, there was nothing wrong with her? that wasn't possible she had to be sick, she could feel it. She bit her lip and clung to the blanket before opening her eyes again,"I don' wanna eat, it'll jus' come back up anyway..."she murmured. She looked at him her eyes wide and glossed over, not with tears, but pain, physical and emotional. What was so wrong with it, why couldn't she just love only him? She turned back over her back to him and she looked at the wall as she spoke,"I love you..."she said to him but really in her mind she was trying to convince herself that he was the only one she loved, she was trying to force herself to believe that Jack had no place in her heart, that nbody else could fill Irish's shoes....but she wondered if she ever could fully convince herself. She let a single tear fall down her cheek and she swallowed hard forcing back tears before she turned back to face him on her side. She propped herself up on one arm and without notice she leaned forward and hurled, just missing Irish's shoes.
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Post by Irish on Sept 19, 2009 19:46:59 GMT -5
Irish backed up from the pile of sick. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "Poet! What's wrong, do you need a doctor? Where does it hurt?" he asked worriedly, coming to her-avoiding the sick. "Come on Poet, tell me everythin' that's wrong. Oi promise Oi'll help you." Irish murmured, pushing hair back from her face, he hummed an Irish lullaby and rubbed her head comfortingly.
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Post by Poet on Sept 19, 2009 20:01:44 GMT -5
She cringed slightly and looked up at him sideways as her hands clenched her stomach,"my head...my stomach, my sides..."she murmured as she keeled over in the fetal position moaning in pain. She reached for his hand and took it in hers, she knew she was sick now, for real. She had no idea how she got sick though,"I dunno Irish....I feel like cr@p...ugh..."she groaned clenching her teeth together as she gripped his hand and brought it to her forhead, and sure enough she was burning up.
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Post by Irish on Sept 21, 2009 16:41:35 GMT -5
She cringed slightly and looked up at him sideways as her hands clenched her stomach,"my head...my stomach, my sides..."she murmured as she keeled over in the fetal position moaning in pain. She reached for his hand and took it in hers, she knew she was sick now, for real. She had no idea how she got sick though,"I dunno Irish....I feel like cr@p...ugh..."she groaned clenching her teeth together as she gripped his hand and brought it to her forhead, and sure enough she was burning up.
Irish took a steadying breath as he felt her forehead. "Poet," he started and he was amazed to find his voice sounded harsh. "Oi don't know what's going on with you, but it's getting pretty old, all this secrecy. If there's something you can't tell me..." He shook his head. "Oi mean, Oi told you everything, you have to give something back. Unless you tell me what's up in the next thirty seconds, Oi'm leaving." Irish finished, his breathing coming quick. He sat back on the chair heavily, his hands clenched tightly together.
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Post by Poet on Sept 21, 2009 20:50:22 GMT -5
She tilted her head, she didn't understand. She looked at him and then looked down at his hands. She hesitantly put one of her hands ontop of his,"Irish....I jus' don't wanna disappoint you none...."she murmured. She closed her eyes for a moment ignoring the pain in her head and stomach. "I'm just confused is all...."she mummbled openeing her eyes to look at him once. She shifted and rested her head in his lap, she moved his hands taking one hand in each of hers and intertwining her fingers with his as she looked up into thse gorgeous, endless eyes.
"I'm just not myself....I'm lonely, confused.... I miss you when yer not here... Mi dispiace....vi preghiamo di non esser mad..... and vi preghiamo di non lasciare.... I really do need you, I really mi manchi...." she looked at him her eyes wide, glossing over and puppy dogged. She didn't want to lose him over her feelings for someone else, she loved him, she wanted to be with Irish, it was just hard to get over her old feelings.
(lesson of the day: Mi dispiace=I'm sorry, vi preghiamo di non essere= please don't be mad,vi preghiamo di non lasciare= please don't leave, mi manchi= I missed you)
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Post by Irish on Sept 22, 2009 19:02:47 GMT -5
Irish shook his head. "Poet, please. You have to tell me everythin'. Oi can't help you none if you don't tell me what's wrong... It'll help you too, Oi bet, to get it off your chest." Irish smiled softly at her. "Oi know, Oi love you too. Oi do, Oi miss you, too." He said, understanding some of her Italian. "Oi'm confused too. We're in a relationship now, you have to tell me things. Oi tell you everythin' and Oi'm confused about what you're keepin' from me. How bad can it be?"
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Post by Poet on Sept 22, 2009 19:16:42 GMT -5
She held his hands in hers and rested their hands on her stomach as she looked up at him. She bit her lower lip and her tone of voice changed slightly to a more serious and calm tone,"I jus' can't push my old feelings away....I love you and I need you and I wanna be with you, but there is still that gnawing in the back of my head, that tuggin' on the strings of meh heart.....I still care about Jack.....I don't wanna I try so hard ta forget it, but it ain't easy, it's far from.... I need you to look at meh, ta tell me it's ok, to tell meh that you'll help me through this Irish..........because..."she trailed off and her grip on his hands grew tighter. "Because.....if you can't den there ain't any point in us stayin' together...."her voice was soft as she looked into those eyes, how could she even concider letting it go to waste if he couldn't help her, but she had to give him the option.
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Post by Irish on Sept 26, 2009 18:09:20 GMT -5
Irish pulled his hands from hers gently. "Poet, look. This is how it is. Oi know about you and Jack, Oi always have. But you have to understand what Oi need. Oi need someone who cares for me, only me. You have to make up your mind, Oi can't do it, because Oi only know what Oi want. Only you know what's best for you, not me. And another thing, if you have only used me as a replacement for Jack-tell me now. You can't string people along Poet, because then it'll blow up in your face, kind of like it is now." He added thoughtfully. The whole time his voice was gently, he was as hurt as she was. "Poet, Oi have a lot of responsibilites, Oi am the sole supporter of a large family... Oi need someone who loves me and me only-like Oi love them-and Oi need someone who can understand me responsibilites... All of them, and who understands that Oi may not always be there to be with them."
Irish's green eyes were very sad, his pain was etched onto his face. Was this... The End?
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Post by Poet on Sept 26, 2009 18:23:01 GMT -5
As soon as he pulled his hands from hers she felt the pain in her heart, the gnawing on the inside of her. She sat up and looked at the door, she had to decide now. She couldn't wait, she couldn't hold out for her heart to make up its own mind, she had to make this decision the logical way. She bit her lower lip and hung her head, she didn't want it to end. She listened to the eery silence between herself and him and let everything sink in for a few minutes, it felt more like hours though.
She had to ask him, and if his answer was yes, then it may just be enough to make up her mind for her. "Irish........do you love me and only me? Can you look at me and tell me that I'm really the only girl you want to be with, the only one you want to love and hold....do we even know what love is any more Irish? I'd like to think I do, I'd like to think that loving you is how I lay here every night wishing you were here, how whenever your here I'm lost in you, how I wait for you and continue to do so no matter how lonely I am, I'd like to think that because it makes me happy to know that we even breath the same air, that looking at you makes me happy no matter what happens.....but who am I to say what love is.....who am I to say you love me either Irish.....I know what I need, and what I want, but is it enough for you that I want you....is it enough for you that I Need you?"she asked him softly.
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Post by Irish on Sept 26, 2009 18:36:21 GMT -5
Irish looked down at his hands. "Poet..." He started, his eyes brimming with tears. "Oi can honestly tell you that Oi love you and only you... Right now. Oi'm going to be honest... Oi don't see us getting married. For now, Oi need you and want you, but for marriage... Oi need a girl taht will be content with being alone all day, that will be content with waiting for her husband every night. Oi can't give you adventure, Oi can only give you children and a boring, simple life." Irish shrugged. "Oi am content with being with you, with loving you. But are you content with the future Oi can giev you?
"Are you sure you don't want Jack? He can give you adventure and mystery and excitement. Oi'm going to let you have anything you want. If you want me, great! But if you want Jack, Oi'm okay with that. Whatever you want, Poet, anything you want." Irish sighed and brushed a tear away impatiently.
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(c)Street