Secrets & Scars
Tell me all your sad stories, she said. Her cheek pressed against my breast and her hot breath flowed across my heart slow and redolent of whiskey and smoke.
I tried to speak, to give her my heartbreaks and fuck ups.
I had no voice. No one else had ever asked.
Her fingertips mapped out my pains,traced the scars of a life hard won. She moved and looked down at the lumpy scars in the crook of my left arm.
I nodded. I could only whisper.
“Yeah. I fucked up a lot.”
She thought about it.
“Yeah, but you’re here with me now. And we’re alive.”
I murmur against her hair as she relaxes against me, her breathing slow and full of trust.
“Alive. We’re alive. We’re alive.”