His shoulders

He carried the world on 

his shoulders 

as if it had been a gift, 

never the burden it was 

meant to be,

and the universe exhaled relief

that it had chosen

well.

She traced his face with

careful fingers

in the restful blue of night,

memorizing every inch 

of privilege 

the stars asked her to protect inside

her two uncertain

hands.

And between

his shoulders,

and between 

her hands,

they sheltered--together--

two 

beating 

hearts.

It was not a burden.

Instead, a privilege,

a gift--far greater than 

the mind,

the stars,

the universe,

could ever hope to

conceive.