Poetry Print - Threshold

$15.00
The night was quiet, breath held tight,
a hush beneath the candlelight.
She trembled not from fear but flame
a whisper soft that knew her name.
His hands were slow, like reading Braille,
each kiss a story, warm and pale.
The world fell back, the self-undone,
two shadows folding into one.
A sharpness first, then something sweet,
a breaking tide, a rhythmic beat.
She learned the shape of want and trust,
how skin could spark, and bones could rust.
No longer girl, not quite defined,
but something born of love and mind.
The night was quiet, breath held tight,
a hush beneath the candlelight.
She trembled not from fear but flame
a whisper soft that knew her name.
His hands were slow, like reading Braille,
each kiss a story, warm and pale.
The world fell back, the self-undone,
two shadows folding into one.
A sharpness first, then something sweet,
a breaking tide, a rhythmic beat.
She learned the shape of want and trust,
how skin could spark, and bones could rust.
No longer girl, not quite defined,
but something born of love and mind.