he is fragile.
easily scared, difficult to convince.
he takes a leap of faith every day;
he wakes up, ready for battle,
ready for Valhalla to witness his soul.
but he scares easy.
he smiles, but doesn't let that bother his darkness.
sometimes,
he lets go.
he closes his eyes, and believes in the blue of the sky;
he blinds his worries for a few moments,
for it only takes a few minutes for roaming hands to find their treasures.
he puts his world aside, and steps, ever so slightly, into mine.
he tests the waters;
it's not the cold that bothers him, it's the ripples.
he wants to be invisible.
i would trade in my wings for it, he says.
sometimes, he forgets
where he is, what he does, what he wants, and what he doesn't need.
he forgets to be polite, he forgets to hold back.
he is easily scared, but his laughter escapes him;
only for an instant.
and when he sees the world erupt in a blaze of love in her eyes,
he suddenly remembers to close the curtains of his soul.
as if an intruder had walked through your house,
disturbing nothing, and yet,
the air has been moved, and it's uncomfortable.
he commands his eyes to look away from her,
he begs his hands to stop, he implores his heart to breathe slowly.
and then he disappears.
he waits, patiently reminding himself to be wary.
he keeps careful vigil; he watches over her,
even though she has asked him not to.
she waits, her skin warmed in the sun of his universe,
knowing it will take three days
for him to resurrect.