love

Gentle hands clean every inch of dirt from me, cleaning my skin and spots nearly impossible to reach inside. I contemplate us. We are friends, we are lovers. We are fated, we are doomed. We are both everything or nothing. Except 'nothing' never ached inside me like a weary mind calling for sleep without a place to rest. At night I lay still as I carefully select the breath I'll use to bare to you my heart. Only for my prized gasp to be interrupted by a muffled cry across the hall before it can escape my chest. It's not just our lungs to consider. But for now, I am certain that there are spots inside me that may remain untouched or missed by gentle hands for a lifetime. I can sleep forever thankful that they could be cared for just once by someone's along the way.