He always held her hand a little bit tighter
Stared a little bit longer, always the last to look away
He would count every strand when twirling her hair
and then start again when he lost his place
He saw every bump and bruise, every stretch and scar
and loved them like they were his tattoos
His voice was a type of fix that puts the name-brand-coffee to shame
His chest, a safer wall than the ones that line her house
His arms, telling her to settle down, using his lips for assistance

She believed it
only when he didn't say it.

But every time the words dripped from his tongue,
her hands would shake
Every time it settled in his sighs, she would hide behind
the curtain of her hair
Every time it croaked in his laugh, every bruise got darker
and every old scar stung again

*You are beautiful.

She smiled, those eyes of greeting,
Doors opened with moving breeze,
I entered the drawing room, amused
As I crept with creeks from golden
Wood floors at the foot of the stairs,
Throughout her abode, finery draped
And sheer linens played with the sun
Round her body.  We drew the curtains
That led the light and waited for dark,
A kettle broke out and filled our cups
By the bay windows that burst, pierced
Into her lovely gardens, we had some
Tea and talked of travels and seasons
Huddled in the glassy mirror of nook,
Of her white conservatory, at the table
Already made with silver and crystal
And songbirds sang in the open airs.

You are sun and I am moon.
I'll let you shine throughout the day,
But let me glimmer at night.
And on rare occasions,
let us align
and the world will
stare in awe of our eclipse.