your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She tells him she can walk though he finds it hard to believe as she begins to make her way back to the door. He puts out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray, focusing his attention on her slow moving frame, opening the door for her to pass through and to guide her the way upstairs. It doesn’t bother him how long it takes, the only thing that bothers him right now is wondering what she’d gotten into, where the blood had come from, how much of it were hers…

He keeps a hand hovering by her back just in case she needs support, until the stairs are reached and up they go to slip behind another door. This one, he locks behind him after she’s entered. The interior is dark, though he slips away from her side to light some of the candles and lanterns within, bringing a room to life with a large bed in the center, a couple desks stashed off to the sides, a table with a couple of chairs — the master bedroom in a sense, should one like it exist.

The bathroom is attached off on a wing opposite of the entrance, and he gestures her to follow him into it as he lights more light to brighten the room before he turns on the water to the shower to get it heating up.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint