He only calls me "sweetheart" in his sleep.
Between the sheets and dreams and signs
of sleep–his slow and steady heart
beat–he holds me like he's afraid I'll
leave or disappear while in his reach.
And when I squirm he wakes enough to whisper
sweet nothings in my ear–"nothings" because they are
almost always incoherent.
"sweet" because he smiles or pulls me closer to him
which only makes me want to squirm more.
But his tenderness fades when darkness
does and he acts like he's afraid of needing something
that might leave or cling. His heartbeat is fast and anxious
between signs of commitment and the rise and fall of the sun.
The truth is I don't really like the word "sweetheart" anyway.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I Like It!
"...
The truth is I don't really like the word "sweetheart" anyway..."
An intimate relationship is tenuous at best when the glow dims.
A poet condenses prose to say the most with the fewest words, I think.
Thank you.
amicus...
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I really like the idea behind this piece, but your flow is difficult to grasp with the weird spacing. This piece has a lot of potential.. Small adjustments could make a huge difference here.
Thanks for sharing, natasharv. Much enjoyed.
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