Yesterday:
Every line on my hands was woven with the deepest care
as I curled myself into you, a perfect fit against your delicate figure,
invisible to everything but each other.
Our eyes spun webs of memories that clung to our lungs,
filling our throats so much we had raspy breaths
and weren’t able to talk for hours.
I fell in love with the way your palm cradled my face
before you reached inside my mind to figure out who I was behind my cautious smile.
I hear nothing but the blossoming of our faith in this relationship.
This is what it means to be enraptured.
Today:
Something isn’t right;
the dread slams against my stomach and heart,
looking for a way in, as I frantically answer the phone.
I was just wondering if you heard about John and the accident.
I am numb.
Then suddenly, I can feel the words of his best friend rotting across my teeth,
and the sky is crashingcrashingcrashing
while the ground shrivels into a pile of ashes with no meaning at all.
Ohmygod, not you, not the person who holds my life.
I hear nothing but the incessant static that comes with tragedy.
This is what it means to be afraid.
Tomorrow:
You won’t be coming home for a while
but at least you’re getting better.
The drip of the I.V. is in cadence with the falling leaves
and each passing second that I miss you.
You smell foreign, of antiseptics and strange medicines,
but the texture of your skin tells me that it’s still you behind the darkness.
So now, as the fear embedded under my fingernails subsides,
and my heart crawls back into all its compartments,
I lay my cheek against the hospital bed, if only to be closer to you.
I hear everything around me until you touch my face and whisper,
“Your coming here means the world to me. You mean the world to me.
Thanks for being my girlfriend.”
This is what it means to love.
Silver trophy winner
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with much love & light~ Desire~*~
