“I love you,”
the heavy weight,
like an atlas on his shoulders
lifted off, flew away
as the words left his mouth;
words he’d not spoken before
except in a dark, broken den
where he’d seeked solace;
words he’d whispered into a glass of whiskey,
that failed to quiet his mind.
“I love you,” he’d sobbed, then.
“I love you,” he smiles now.
and his heart feels light;
the smile that greets him,
the glint in blue-grey eyes,
the press of soft lips against his;
He is soaring.
He is home.
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i follow back :)