Manifest Destiny

An inevitability of intimacy and existentialism

Her breath slows as I blow ripples into a mug of steaming lavender tea. Our exhales sync. My body has come to know her windows of peaceful surrender. It releases tension in solidarity with her silent ceasing into the possibility of tomorrow. Why am I reluctant to join? [Would a leaking breast coddle my restlessness into zzz’s?] My senses brim with angst for the fated call for reassurance of my presence in her life. I am here. For as long as you need. And not a minute more.