unconditional

the room is quiet

save for the humming of the AC unit

i’m hyperaware of the rise and fall of my chest,

and the stillness of your stare.

i break the silence with heavy words,

stilted and uncertain

i drop them like stones.

but you catch them

and reply without missing a beat

we weave a delicate back-and-forth

threads of tension twisting painfully

the air is saturated with a mournful hesitation

the space between us uneasy

we have reached an impasse

we hold our breath,

unsteady.

i sneak a peek at you from the corner of my eye

and i trace the gentle planes of your face

the familiar slope of your nose and the curve where your hair tucks behind your ear

i allow your smooth contours to quell the tightness in my chest.

i know you can see me looking,

keen eyes, magnets drawn to mine

there is nothing placid about their warmth.

i meet your gaze

and my blood slows.

something in me snaps

and you are there to break my fall,

you pull me close

i whisper an apology into your chest

you rest your chin on my head

for a while you don’t speak.

“i wouldn’t hurt for someone i didn’t love,”

it’s a rumble in your chest

an ache in my nerves

and with that,

the icebergs frozen by years of anguish

begin to melt.

the water levels rise

but i am dry in your arms,

safe and sure

buoyed by the steady thrumming of your heart.