Thoughts while on 3A

Guardian
He never cared about the hole by her temple. An open space to worship near the sacred concrete. Here they could both stare at something else for awhile.
She always paused before entering into this contract. Head slightly cocked to the left, suspending words like marionets. She was the type of person to theorize each brick in the wall.
He turned his head away when she fell every morning. The ritual failure caught just enough to be unseen. She cried and rubbed the hole by the temple for hope tomorrow.
He piled the softness around her ankles more each afternoon. His halo made dimmer for her bright eyes. The pair scuffled, waded in cloth and silk and light.
She saw him as two people become one in her dreams. Lips poised at the ready to spur on great works of man. She closed her door so he wouldn't hear her pray.