Dreams:
He stares at her with an expression into which she instantly dissolves, his gaze moving from her face back to his tattoo, the awestruck wonder in his eyes striking deep places.
"It was me?" His question that cuts through calloused layers, exposing new skin and a youthful heart, and she shivers, feeling naked before him even though she remains fully clothed.
"Yes," her response, her eyes as full as her heart, her soul brimming over until she trembles with the force of feeling freshly scrubbed. Then he kisses her again, and she trembles for other reasons as barriers are discarded and all is laid bare between them, secrets revealed, mysteries tasted and savored with near reverence. She is his as she has been no others, holding nothing back as fear is discarded and hope is embraced.
Then she awakens as she does every morning, alone save the living reminder growing daily within her, rounding her form, softening her edges. She is his, as well, this baby never expected, this daughter crafted by firelight, this child he will never know.
