The couple walks slowly down the sidewalk, their only attestant an October sky. A brisk autumn wind infiltrates their coats, fluttering the scarf of the young woman, howling in fury as the man pulls her close. Their thighs brush softly; she inclines her head upon his shoulder, the pause between footfalls lengthening.
The end of the journey is reached. As the pair of shadows collides, so do the bodies, an oasis of warmth, of contentment, in this bleak, stone-embossed metropolis.
In a city that has forgotten humanity, there is a remembrance.
In a world that has belied loveliness, there is an emergence.
His hand reaches up to lower her hood, a veil pushed aside from the face of a bride, the sun, the jealous bitch, hides behind a cloud to conceal her wrath.
Never has a light so bright shone beneath the lids of Venus.
Like a savage seeing for the first time his own reflection in a pool, he reaches forth, tentatively touching a cheek so soft, so lovely, it pierces to his heart faster than any bullet, any blade.
A ripple breaks the reverie of a primitive mind.
A smile bolts the cell to an imprisoned heart.
He leans forward, his lips seeking hers; they meet upon an altar, two lives joined by something as tender and as fragile as a kiss.
Never has steel so strong flowed in the veins of Vulcan.
No comfort found in the womb of Eden can compare to the solace found in her eyes. To be lost forever gazing into their warm depths, seeing all that is perfect, all that is pure. God is found alive in her iris, heaven in her arms.
A warm summer day: she lies upon a patch of green, the sunlight and her hair merged in golden harmony, cradling him in her arms until sleep performs its grand heist.
A darkened room: she sits in a chair with his child at her breast, flawlessness replicated, the amalgamation of two selves given a physical form.
This is beauty.
This is she.