His gangily wobbly head rested on my shoulder
His eyelids were closed, intermittenly fluttering
Beneath the robe was his body, a body i had laid next to for 34 years
I knew every crevice, every man made and non man made mark
I knew which parts worked well
Which ones didn’t
I knew his body as well as my own
Yet, I am not the owner
I am not the inhabitor
So although I, too, have a long history with this body
I know not what it feels,
i don’t know the violent spasms and convulsions
I don’t know the painful, relentless bouts of vomitting or
The panic driven breakdowns that make him flail about in a daze
Hurting himself
Sometimes,
Hurting me
Touching his forehead with my fingers
i am taken back to a time
when this head was between my legs, silently moving to give me sweet pleasure
To a time when this head poked through my 3rd floor apartment, bringing me chinese food when i couldn’t step away myself
I am lost in the memories when this man fought for me to return to him
That bitter fight on the corner that changed my life
Begging me to stay, to give us another chance
And such is our history,
34 years later,
and
what i know is
this head on my shoulder
The eyelids fluttering
The soft, quiet breath of his mouth
So close to mine lets me know his life
And, on this quiet rainy night
As the teardrops slide down my cheeks,
I am begging him to stay
5 comments:
Such a generous glimpse at the finest love and intimacy can be. Thank you for this exquisitely painful and beautiful gift, Sweetheart.
beautiful and bittersweet
I don't know how to properly express how profound your poem is. I don't even have a context for it in my life experience. Maybe that's why it effects me so profoundly. I envy them. I long to feel that intensity, that much love, that much pain.
thank u all for the comments. much appreciated! u are all very kind.
Sadness and despair is what I felt. A painful read.
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