His heart was sluggish
but that day she looked at him
with a single word written in her eyes
so clearly even he could read.
It struck him speechless as he realized
he would stop breathing
if that meant she would have more air.
His mouth was slow to say it
and he would rather light his skin on fire
than risk something he knew he wouldn’t lose
but her fingers on his wrist
got the job done anyway.
Her nails were painted blue
chipped and bright against his skin
and he was blindsided by inspiration
to write fifty thousand love poems
about the shape of her hands.
They danced careful steps
in a delicate circle
to the furious beat of their matching pulses
and when he met her eyes again
the air was stolen from his lungs
because it was only ever for her.