cafune:Ā Ā the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you loveĀ &Ā tacenda:Ā Ā things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence.Ā prompt forĀ @pathoficeā
hands that heal,Ā Ā hands that bruise.Ā Ā his are both.Ā gentle now in the way they comb through ebony locks to lull him into slumber,Ā Ā gentle in the way they can never beĀ āneath your fatherās gaze.Ā there is solace here in his presence, Ā in his touch, Ā & Ā you ache to devour in the way all starved children do. Ā with your head against his lapĀ &Ā eyne drawn shut,Ā you think he is the closest thing akin to home.Ā Ā Ā Ā
a yawn bubbles from the depths of your frayed lungs as you stir awake.Ā Ā out against the horizon dawn has begun its approach whilst evenfall retreats;Ā Ā another day closer to the black sun,Ā another day closer to your betrayal.Ā Ā hands that heal,Ā hands that bruise.Ā Ā soon it will be your own that inflict sorrowĀ Ā /Ā Ā leave scar tissue.Ā Ā
you reach out blindly,Ā intertwining your fingertips with his to bring them level to your lips.Ā Ā you press a kiss there.Ā a tentative one,Ā a gentle one.Ā with it you pourĀ &Ā pour everything you cannotĀ Ā (Ā Ā or perhaps,Ā will notĀ )Ā say into this silent touch.Ā Ā a kiss against his knuckles means i love you,Ā Ā against the pad of his thumb means do you love me,Ā too?Ā &Ā finally,Ā into the centre of his palm,Ā a prayer.Ā forgive me for being selfish with you just a little while longer.Ā everything unspokenĀ &Ā still shared so desperately.Ā Ā
āāĀ Ā the guards will be along this wall soon,Ā Ā we should leave.Ā Ā āā













