You come home when I'm tucked in bed, wide
awake and teetering on the edge of sleep.
You sit next to my body and I feel your
sigh before I hear it rolling down,
and I see it in the curtain of your face pulled
taut, now drawing open.
I'm too tired to climb inside that sigh and you're too tired
to climb into bed, and so you pat my arm,
retreat into the shower to wash the day away.
But for a moment before you disappear I search
those eyes, flecks of light under the hood of dark
and hold your gaze just before the breaking moment.
Fingertips reaching through the fence between us,
I cannot bear that space of almost touching,
pull my eyes away and say goodnight.
My body, my face,
stiff wooden planks adrift in a sea of distant desire
until you leave and I am paper dissolving into saltwater,
and I turn,
surrender to sleep.
I am carried on the wisps of tired dreams,
lost within your arms in a love without fences.
* * * * *
I sat for awhile, honestly, thinking a jumble of thoughts on today's prompt of "Lost." And this is eventually what won out. Though I feel more exposed than I generally prefer in my writing, I felt compelled to be brave in the admitting of rough edges and unfinished places. My marriage, along with everything else in life, is part of an ongoing story of hope and trust and redemption, and that, more than anything, is what I wish to convey here.
Linking with Lisa Jo.