let's end with the beginning

smell
(in, out, breathe)
she does.
snuggles into his flannel,
green and gray and soft with the smell of him,
closes her eyes and lets herself fall --
smell.
she does,
and his arms are warm around her,
strong and safe and sure,
and maybe it shouldn't but something in her opens, gently.
smell
(in, out, breathe).
there is a kind of permanence to this, to him.
she doesn't know where they are going,
doesn't know how or whether they'll ever get there,
but there is a space for her in his arms
and he loosens something tight and fearful in her.
he is a chance she is taking,
a space that will never again feel right
empty.