his fingertips, claw-tipped,
ghosted over the skin of her arm
as she lay sleeping next to him –
the delicate, strong arms
which had held him steady
eased his pain
when he was ready to fall apart.
He laced his fingers into hers,
small and fine--
he could feel how the fingers were becoming marked
by the work she chose as her own,
shaped and molded by her love.
Lifting her hand up to his lips,
he wished, not for the first time,
that he had the words to explain
how lost he was without her,
how bleak his world
how empty his life.
Her eyes blinked, opened sleepily,
smiling at him,
this man who completed her,
made her days worthwhile.
Hearing his unspoken words
deep in her heart,
in answer she brushed his silver bangs out of his eyes,
wrapped her arms around his neck,
and pulled him close,
kissing him softly.
“I love you, too,” she said.
He kissed her back,
the woman who could read his heart,
and he smiled.