There was a night that still tumbles around in my head
Relentlessly playing
It was so dark in his room
and we sat in silence for eternities at a time
broken only by his small pleas
of me to go home, to drive far away, to let him go to a better place
I sat at the end of the bed for hours
I sat there and stared at him
I hoped he would fall asleep, I was so tired
and so afraid to leave him alone
and eventually he coaxed me to come lay down
and he laid there with me for a while
I was drifting to sleep with swollen eyes
I felt him get up, change his clothes
Minutes later to be greeted by him kneeling next to me in his beaten garage jacket
"I'm going for a drive, and I love you."
And whatever he said after that i've forgotten
He held my hand and he cried and I begged and begged and begged for him to remember to come home
You never ever forget something like that
Pleading for someone with such tired, dismal, eyes to come home
to stay in bed
and by 3 am I got his jacket off and I had him lying next to me again
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I never thought he was capable of disappearing until that night
I also never believed a night like this would happen
outside of fiction
Not to me
YOU ARE READING
MASOCHISM
Poetryan uncensored synposis of the thoughts and experiences belonging to a young tired masochist. I quit writing for a while but sometimes I feel I need to write more than I need a cigarette.
