A girl whom I’ve not spoken to
or shared coffee with for several years
writes of an old scar.
On her wrist it sleeps, smooth and white,
the size of a leech.
I gave it to her
brandishing a new Italian penknife.
Look, I said turning,
and blood spat onto her shirt.
My wife has scars like spread…
I can see right through those deep blue eyes; you’re lying to me.
That’s not my perfume, and those are definitely not my clothes on your floor.
You said I was your only one. Apparently not anymore.
What does She have that I don’t? Does She provide for you what I can’t or won’t?
You said you had made a decision.
Obviously you have some more thinking to do.
There’s no place I’d rather be than on the bank with you by my side. The river flows so fluidly, with no place to be. The trees are changing; little green buds are sprouting from the branches signaling spring is on its way. Birds chirp all around us. The sun is setting, animals are starting to awake, preparing for the night’s adventures. You & I are still on the bank. Talking, whispering about our days together, who we are and what we want to be in life. You say to me, “I love you dearly, but there’s something I must share. My days are numbered before I have to fall into the deep slumber, never to awake again. This disease is eating me away quickly, so I must say, you are my one & only. Please stay with me a while, and when I’m gone, remember this, when you are lonely, I am always by your side. I love you my dear.”
As He finishes, tears fall from my eyes like a dam breaking loose. I say to you, “I love you too”. We get up and walk back to the car to go home. Knowing our days together are numbered, I want to make the best of tonight.
I wake up with tears streaming down my cheeks, only to realize, it was just a dream.
