in contrast - warmth.

Her body is confused. Bare flesh exposed to the chill of the heated room,
She sleeps hard but light. He’s up still, unable to fight his body’s schedule to fall asleep in her arms.
But she understands - and she sleeps through his awakening.
She tosses and turns, ignoring the existence of anything else but his flesh against hers.
Her eyes falter open and recognize immediately his face welcoming hers - he is protecting her.
He kisses her gently, and she falls immediately back into sleep. He does not move from her,
He stays by her side, holding her - he stays still as she falls in and out of sleep.
And when the demons of her past come to haunt her, he wakes her and holds her steady -
Telling her it’ll be all right as she flings herself to him - and when he falls,
She welcomes him, and she remembers in the morning
That everything he is, she adores.


The buzz of the computer fights against the silent breath of their sleep.
Warmth seeps through the blankets, past their flesh - and into their souls.
Domestic simplicity has always met them halfway.
Their love has been fought over, tried and conquered - remembered and forgotten.
But in this moment, in this half-awakening sleep of hers, all is well.
She recognizes the fact that even in their sleep - as always - they’re holding each other.
As if letting go for a minute would allow the other to slip away.
And she wakes to the feeling of his flesh, to the recognition of their awakening.
It is light outside, but in their haven, it is always their night.
She knows she should get up - that she should pass out into the responsibilities of life.
But instead, she turns over and feels him move to accept her flesh against his.
And they sigh together, inescapably, and nestle back in to escape the day.

decaying.

Rats crawl in the darkness, scurrying past decaying rugs.
Holes in the walls, a light that doesn’t work - never has.
And we lie in the bedroom, a bed without sheets - stained with God knows what.
It’s cold - but it always has been.
We touch, but it’s something unusual - something strange.
Close to nothing at all.
And we sigh, and say our forevers like usual.
But the forevers seem different know, more hollow - more hummingbird bones.
And I’m ready to take my flight, but I can see your wings are clipped.
What is a hawk to do without her mate, except fly away -
Her hawk song is different now, a world away; it is another tune,
Another breath within her life.
This is more than whether or not I love you - this is about flight.
Rising on currents of air, soaring into the abyss - and not knowing exactly where
I’ll nest the next night.

Hummingbird.

"It has been my experience," she whispered, "that happiness never comes without another's anguish. And maybe I'm selfish.."
His eyes beg her not to finish that sentence.
"But I'd rather be happy than protect anyone else."

And that was that. And that was betrayal. Somewhere he knew he could not ask her to be any more than she was. This was her, whimsical and indecisive. Hummingbird's hearts beat 1260 beats a minute. Their bones, lightweight and hollow. Her wings were always much too ready to take the beats it needed to fly away.

He knows he wouldn't love her without those fragile, hollow bones, and those wings always flying out before her.
But he wished she'd be a little more selfless.

"Are you sorry?" His voice is weak.
"No." Hers is strong. "But that, I am sorry for."