aftermath
i.
he traces his hopes into her skin;
his tongue swirls secrets around and into her navel;
his kisses promise forever.
he entrusts this new fragile life to her;
she had once followed him to the ends of the world
and he now does the same.
ii.
there's ash and smoke and he promised
her and himself and please—
let the universe be kind once more.
he pulls himself from the wreckage with only minor injuries,
a miracle within itself.
he almost sags in relief when they find her,
but that's quickly quashed when he sees her
and oh god please
that can't all be her blood—
he has to be sedated.
iii.
when he awakens, she's in a coma
and he's reduced to a gaunt mess;
unshaved scruff, shadowed eyes, trembling
as he sits vigil for weeks
too long without her smile, her laugh,
without her to reassure him.
he's angry at himself, at her—
she promised forever too—
he promised to keep her safe,
but he's never felt so scared, never been so close
to losing her in blood and flames.
when she opens her eyes nearly three months later,
he cries.
iv.
he doesn't let her out of his sight for weeks despite her reassurances.
"it's okay, i'm here, i'm alive,
and i'm never going to leave you."
he clings to her in the aftermath,
entwines their limbs together,
murmurs frantic litanies into her ears,
and loses himself in her.