She hid her edges and the rough corners of her mind from him. Even if he was broken, so familiar with the feeling - she felt as if she was sinning from hiding something he understood.
His eyes flickered from one place to another. Always. His endless dark eyes (brown in the light, but grows dark when he’s forgotten what here felt like) His touch of words so soft in the air that he would be able to stand near a frightened deer, and whisper in it’s ear. You would have loved the sound, it would caress the crevices of your mind, the corners of your lips, the goosebumps on your arms -
She shook her head.
His tall form was always hunched, (there’s a hole inside of his chest and the edges are slowly deteriorating and love is caged in the place of his heart and his mind has been crushed into pieces - It’s been dark in here far too long) and you wonder what has made him seem so fragile there and then, what has locked him in place by invisible hands around his lungs and scorching words that burned what used to be there (don’t worry, he’s not empty yet.)
His past has taken away the courage from his shinobi uniform and the strength from the back of his tongue dissolved into nothingness. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry, he says over and over and it becomes a broken record in the background.
How to smooth over the frown lines and the heal his chapped lips, oh - how she wished she could offer more than what her small hands can reach for because they always seem to stop. Not in the beginning or the end. Somewhere along the lines ofI’ll try and I can’t.
One day, he won’t need to worry about the poison ivy and thorns in his pathway. One day, he will be able to breathe despite the blisters and bruises. One day, she will give her corners and edges because healing makes things sweeter and real.
Don’t worry, she said. I won’t let go.
