// m //
once he lets his grasp slacken and tighten on the Bible for a reading
i hasten to his room, where i hear his muffled coughs
i force the door open, and he sits on his bed
undergarments only
hair ruffled like it has been
and his clothes scattered around the floor
in messy piles of rotting faith
he doesn't even acknowledge my presence
he lets the tears keep falling down
and erode what he thought he knew
and i sit by him
"did he hurt you?"
silence
"don't wash away the sin this time. the lord has forgiven you already."
"i don't think he desires to."
my hand finds the small of his back. i feel him tremble under my touch.
the heat feels nice. the only truly warm thing ive felt in a tundra
"i forgive you."
we sit in the morning light, one head on a shoulder and a hand holding another one who needed to be held together.
