an outstretched palm

he coiled his hand into a fist that day and yet, did not place it around her heart.

instead, as darkness settled into secret, raw places, his fingers lifted the ringlets off her cheeks. his neck arched forward, and the motion was slow and unsullied by configured grace or charm.

he kissed the coiled loops that lay over his knuckles and the light from the tiny window that fell on them. she did not look at him, and did not move, but her breath lingered on his cheek for just a moment. he felt the warm air lift and then vanish into the world, no longer part of her.

i do not think he knew what he did that night, as hours passed and the stars dissolved into skies the color of flamingoes. the city began to stir and with it the filth and waste of progress. she lay curled against him and slept, her bones touching his.

it is not always a beautiful thing, this world. but if beauty is to be found it exists in the moments when we find an honest place to be. i wish for you, such places.