Candlelight flickers on the walls as you sit on the edge of the bed. The air smells of spices and wine as i place my glass on the table.
Your shoulders betray your feelings: slumped from the weight of the burden you must carry. Your hair falls in a black torrent down the broad expanse of your back. Tired muscles ripple like an ocean’s waves as I take that cascade of strength into my hands and comb my fingers through it. This symbol of your power, that none had ever been able to sever, binds you to the world and never to me.
“Do you love me?”
“Of course,” I say, “now stay with me and rest the night.”
“Do you want me?”
“Always, now come to bed and keep me warm.”
“Then take this strength from me, make me yours, for I cannot give it freely.”
“And what of the world?” I whisper as you press a pair of dull shears into my trembling hands.
“If I could choose a downfall, then I would choose you and leave my shoulders bare.”