You read me the book you could never read alone, which happened to be my hundredth, and I watched you dance to a song about having no regrets, over and over. Two strangers frolicking as lovers, whispering secrets, telling stories, coalescing in the night, rooting to each other in all ways to escape the cruel realities surrounding us. You gave me my smile and laugh, and I gave you all I had left. And the way you touched me was equally passionate and gentle, writing a story on my skin where a scarred monster like me could be adored by a woman like you.
