On nights like this, I remember how easy it is to love. How rightly we fit in each other’s empty space, your voice gently stoking the embers of the hearth burning brightly beneath my heart. On nights like this, I find it hardest to write. What more can be said about this tenderness I hold so possessively between my palms? How can written words capture the beauty of our reassurance? It won’t always be like this, I know, and soon the dams of despair will overflow in torrential fury but while this moment lasts I will relish the silence that abruptly follows to simmer in the warmth of your hand in mine—