I arrive on your doorstep and kiss away the cold.
You reach out to steady me.
We pretend we can take it on and we find each other.
You don’t know what to do; your eyes, your hazel eyes ask—always ask—they stalk, they stare me down.
The mood shifts; calm, still, rather than drama. Vulnerable. Suspense. No—it’s accidental. It’s accidental.
Closer, we are, reflected in glass. We take each other in, wide-eyed, knee-to-knee.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Hey you,” you say.
We thread our fingers, knuckles to knuckles, make one big fist and I squeeze.
Hold on tight.
You do too.
One thought on “Stained-Glass”
Beautiful, lyrical, and compelling. I could not help but be drawn into this poignant moment. Well written!