He holds me a little tighter as if he's saying?—
Let go, tough baby. I got you.
And the way he wraps around me
makes me want to cry harder,
makes me believe I’m safe,
and I don’t have to be strong in his arms.
I look up, and he wipes under my lashes,
the tears belonging to him now.
His eyes search mine,
wanting to say something,
a mouth full of feelings,
but nothing feels good enough.
His fingertips trace the edge of my face,
and he leans closer instead,
kissing my forehead,
every word he can’t say,
stamped into my skin.
And for the first time in a long time,
I don’t feel alone.
I close my eyes and sink into it.
When he pulls back,
I tilt my chin up, resting it against his chest.
His eyes are glassy, his lids heavy,
his lashes dark
and holding back more than they let go.
I’m trapped in them
as his hand finds my jaw,
thumb dragging across my bottom lip.
Then he tips my chin higher,
parts my lips.
