s o . s o r r y . t h e . w a i t . h a s . b e e n . s o . l o n g .
u p d a t i n g . h a s n' t . b e e n . a t . t h e . f r o n t . o f . m y . m i n d . b u t . e n g a g e m e n t . i s . b a c k . o n . n o w . s o .
i' m . p o s t i n g . n e w . p o s t s . e v e r y . 4 8 . h o u r s
y o u r . p a t i e n c e . i s . g r a c e
y o u k n o w i l o v e y o u
x o h o l l y
his fingers stroked her neck.
"say it again…"
the room felt dense, close. thick air swallowed up whispers. light filtered through the steam, illuminating particles, touching things you didn't know were there
making the invisible, the impossible, seem almost tangible
they shared space, air, pulse.
he watched her there, held her there
her mouth open against his skin
weak sunshine tempered the air, mingled, danced with the steam.
what happened to the air after midnight, before daybreak?
silence hung, deathly quiet, muffled, strangled, bewitching, unreal.
the city was moving but not in their world.
her chest rose, fell.
their breathing softened by the air
nothing came uneasily
those words silently echoed, suspended:
she had said it, out loud.
her heart beat with the ebb of the air,
she felt enclosed, enveloped, protected by him.
not exposed; what she said was not out of desperation, this time.
and this time, nobody ran.