and would hold as gently as the palms you kissed good night.
I laughed, unabashedly and uninhibited,
certain that the smile which met your lips had been put there by my own.
I stood firm, amidst shifting sands,
certain that your hands would pull me out.
And now, I find myself sitting at the edge of the bed,
a silhouette framed by dying light,
trying to find my feet on the floor below.
Wondering if how and why,
could have been forecasted with shoulds and woulds,
If fear and lies crowded the bed,
rendering love made all but a fleeting moment...
feeling...
instance...
all this time.
