He took her face in his hands
With the gentleness only possible
With steel clad fingers
Yearning only to not crush what they held.
She had fear in her eyes
And he wanted to make her feel safe and
To have her
But her skin blackens beneath
Even his tenderness.
She lies: “I trust you.”
And he answers in kind:
“It doesn’t hurt me.”
They cling to each other
Like frost to doomed sprouts
In the long twilight
of late summer
And the fear of the encroaching night
is all that keeps them moving.