In those words, she gave away her glass heart for the last time.
She wrapped it in silk and secretly slipped it in his pocket.
He would find it there one day when he was ready.
He would now carry it with him always
She trusted it would never break again.
She would never again find its shatters tossed in a corner.
Never again, have to wipe away the dust and attempt to mend its pieces
She sewed her trust in him lavishly as in their bed of arugula seeds
Standing there,
Letting the wind whip her raven hair wildly across her eyes,
Her thoughts wandered to the bowl of rose petals by her bedside, scented by candlelight
Little deaths in cabins by moonlight,
Revolutionary rhapsodies, carbon cycles, cranes’ tales.
He swept her hair,
Grazing her nape as she fluttered by his touch.
She gave his beard a tug and smirked coyly before softly pressing her lips to his.
With that kiss, she said those words
And in those words, her glass heart slipped from her slender fingertips,
Silk-clad and secure.
~Shreena
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