I look at you and know that you are hurting; I can see the pain in your eyes and the drops forming at the corner of your eyes oozing vulnerability. I gather you up in my arms like a bundle of wood, being careful not to splinter you. We are sitting in bed and I am behind you with my legs around yours in the spoon embrace. I am kissing you tenderly, but non-sexually on the nape of the neck, and stroking your hair. I am rocking you rhythmically, but oh, so gently. The bravery in your face is being washed away by your flowing tears. I want you to let it all out. I stroke your arms and my silence intensifies as I listen to your broken words. Gradually I am anchoring you, and although you are still a heaving wreck, you have let go and let me take you on board.
Gradually you subside, and your storm tempers. I gently cover us both with a quilt and you crash in my arms; exhausted by your fight. Your breathing relaxes like a subtle breeze, and I cease rocking you. I place you gently onto your side and wrap my being around yours, until we are a jigsaw, saving any missing pieces. I continue to stroke your soft, warm body, before I myself succumb to sleep.