[private] I couldn't utter my love when it counted; birthing

[adna]

one touch will make you so nervous you might stop breathing
one touch will make you so reckless you might start feeling
one touch will finally show to me what you can't hide

He doesn’t hesitate and her heart swells painfully in her throat.

He doesn’t resist and this, in comparison to their last few encounters, feels so easy. Feels so easy if she lets herself forget about her child who cries into her neck that she wants her father to go. Forgets about her sister and her niece and the twisted web she tangles.

One day she will be forced to face the sins she commits again and again.

One day she will be forced to bear the weight of her guilt.

But not today when he comes to her and she can lean against him. Not when she can so selfishly soak in his warmth and feel his mouth against her like forgiveness. She sighs softly, feels the exhaustion even more acutely, but it doesn’t matter.

She drops her head to his chest and closes her eyes.

She feels the sound of his heartbeat and the thrum of it feels so natural, so perfect, that she aches with it. She angles her cheek so that she can press a kiss to him, so that she can let that linger, and when she opens her eyes to see Gospel she ushers her close.

“My little girl,” she whispers, kissing her cheeks to press the tears away.

“You are so loved,” her voice is just mildly hoarse, just remotely gravelly with the grit and the hoarse bite of her tiredness. “One day, you will know just how much. I promise.”

ADNA