I find him crying in a sliver of moonlight in the kitchen. I try to brush his tears away with my fingertips but they refuse to budge so I use my lips to melt them instead. I take him in my arms and cradle his head against my shoulder. I would do anything to be able to rip his pain away, tear it to little pieces for the wind. At that moment, the pictures on the wall come alive and dance before us in a bright blur. This moment is ours.
Created: Jul 26, 2010Document Media