Old Man Memories

A Lover Forgotten

I'm an insomniac. A bat thing would be a comparison but I'm more noble but just as unhealthy. Rising from my bed, I stride through my apartment. My sister and mother rest, desperately before the morning. Blood comes from the windows. The sky is a series of veins and arteries, all torn and cut. Each step is planned, as I attempt to care for the well-being of my kin. A few stumbles and their rest is interrupted. Best to continue my advance. Thumps and crunches of the hard work panels are the yield of my walk. The apartment is a calm place. Sleeping underneath the sky as stone in a sea. Wind creates currents and tides, crashing and shattering against the trees. The trunks make breakwaters and the leaves create the sprinkle spray from the ocean. When I'm half awake, I hear the leaves and the branches ripple and shake. Their rocking in the night brings the song of striking water. Bashing into the harsh ground and receding again. I lurk, searching for my romance. My hand holds the air around me. Fingers press and mold to the darkened surroundings to find a lighter. I see one and keep it as my companion. Opening a door and I find a bed of clear crystal liquid. Steam rises, and the tub stores a boiling warm blanket. Two candles ignite, my eye candy. I fall into my hot water mistress. My whole form embraces this familiar, knowing it will provide me with a kindness that no one else can. A hand to hold, in the middle of the night. In my ancient age, it is the only thing that stays with me.