She lays her head against his chest hearing the thick deep heartbeat of his center, of his self
His brown skin warms next to hers which is bleached, white, and soft.
I sit alone. In a corner. Unable to bear the touch of the fabric of his shirt against mine. His errant hand scraping along my side bringing me me back to a blood-soaked past full of darkness and screams.
My heart aches for what I cannot know.
These cuts on my arm weeping tears of blood are nothing.
Nothing to what it is to sit cold and alone in a corner watching the happiness and warmth that can never be mine