(no subject)
they hold each other.
broken and battered, the pair of them.
she feels every part of her being floating away,
as though she were nothing more than a vision.
light, transient, ethereal,
her time here is surely limited.
what keeps her in this world?
him.
her desire to be near him is overpowering, at times.
she longs for the slightest touch,
for that look,
for any reassurance that he wants her,
needs her.
she sees how pained he is,
and she offers him the comfort no other person can;
she offers what no one else is willing to.
she is all he has in this world
and she knows that he knows that.
he hates that.
his need for her frightens him.
he needs her body,
her gentle hands,
her soft lips on his forehead.
he craves to be held in her arms
and to have her gentle voice in his ear,
feeling more than hearing her whispered words.
he pushes this need down,
pushes her away.
he sees her falling.
he pushes too hard,
she falls too far,
too quickly.
she crumbles, pieces flying in every direction,
careening towards the unknown below.
the ephemeral vision fades before his sight.
so he reaches out and pulls her back in.
he collects the broken parts
and gathers them up in his arms.
he holds her together.
and she holds him in gratitude,
offering the love no one else can;
no one else will.
and they hold each other.