Lessons
After crying,
you lay your head against my neck
so I can feel you breathing,
so I can hear oxygen in my eardrums,
you drown out the nightmares.
There is never silence now,
you always whisper things in sleep that are not meant for me.
I have bruises on my ribs from
I have weak fingers from
I have open cuts from
This is not a battlefield.
You place your hands on my clavicle,
my legs quiver as a childs would
and my eyes are tight, closed,
and I clasp to, fumble a key in my fingers
and I wonder what it would be like to cook your meals or iron your shirts
and I wonder if i'd choose that over this
and I wish that I could
and I wish that I would
but for some reason I know I would not.
I know i'd choose here,
moments of learning from your bones and the way
they rotate in rhythm.
This is not the way it is supposed to be,
(immutably covered in your cologne as you leave me tripping over the seams of my own clothes)
and I am contemplating exactly how permanent your marks on my skin may be.
you lay your head against my neck
so I can feel you breathing,
so I can hear oxygen in my eardrums,
you drown out the nightmares.
There is never silence now,
you always whisper things in sleep that are not meant for me.
I have bruises on my ribs from
I have weak fingers from
I have open cuts from
This is not a battlefield.
You place your hands on my clavicle,
my legs quiver as a childs would
and my eyes are tight, closed,
and I clasp to, fumble a key in my fingers
and I wonder what it would be like to cook your meals or iron your shirts
and I wonder if i'd choose that over this
and I wish that I could
and I wish that I would
but for some reason I know I would not.
I know i'd choose here,
moments of learning from your bones and the way
they rotate in rhythm.
This is not the way it is supposed to be,
(immutably covered in your cologne as you leave me tripping over the seams of my own clothes)
and I am contemplating exactly how permanent your marks on my skin may be.