cherished

His palm feels smooth against the fist I didn't realize I'd formed against my stomach. It sits on a knot that won't go away right below my left set of ribs. The knot twists and turns under my clenched fingers, telling me I've done something wrong again. I've caught a stray bread crumb in my soup or misread a label. His lips drift over my hair and he whispers secrets I already know in my ear to drown out the screaming of my old friend below my ribs. His fingers uncurl mine and he kisses each one. He's shaved recently, his cheek scratches against my skin, leaving a red trail across my knuckles. His hair is starting to curl under his ears and I wonder why he hasn't said anything about getting it cut. My fingernails are chipped, small patches of hot pink stand out against his tan chin. He pulls me in and my nose is cold against his warm neck. A mug of hot tea, three sugars for my southern blood, slides between my hands and the dogs sleep at our feet and the rain slips down the drain and the candle flickers and I am cherished in his arms and I have forgotten about the knot.