Chronicle

He gently caressed my thigh;

as I cry into his shoulder.

Making my weakened bones feel a warmth he knew they craved.

His words, just spoken, wounded me;

and he knew that.

I was in pain.

The discombobulated mind I bared, rendering me vulnerable to succumbing to any efforts of comfort;

and he knew that.

He however, aware of my broken state, comforted me the only way he knew how;

the only way he knew would work.

A perfect distraction from my tattered soul;

satisfying the cravings of the flesh.

And that is how we left it.

That was both our opening performance and grand finale.

-R.W.