Sakura

I will always be there. When you wake with some old sorrow caught beneath your ribs, reach for me. Let your hand wander through the sheets until it finds mine. I will turn toward you. Come closer. Lay your cheek against my chest, your thigh across my own. Let me feel the breath you have been holding leave you slowly. I will kiss the corner of your mouth, then the hollow of your throat, where your pulse keeps its frail and faithful music. Beneath my lips, let it hurry. Beneath my hand, let it settle. Tell me what has found you in the dark. Or close your eyes and draw me nearer. There are hours when even your own voice feels far away; I will know you by the way you hold my hand. And should you fear that all you carry might weary these arms, bring it closer. Let the night learn the weight of us together. Whatever sorrow wakes beside you, it will find me there, my lips lingering where your pulse whispers, your name still warm upon them.