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By Laurel Ahlfeld Date: 2003 Dec 11 Comment on this Work [[2003.12.11.20.41.27964]] |
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The last time I left your side, the early morning sun slid between my eyelids prompting my departure. Fluttering eyes awoke to discover you there, still heavy with sleep. I quietly rose trying not to shake you from your dreams; and as I bent down to kiss your forehead goodbye, something about the way the light gathered around your form took my breath away. I stayed longer that morning- studying you (half hoping you'd wake). I sat beside your sleeping self taking in all I could manage. I noticed how your brow wasn't knitted in frustration for once (over life? over love?); how your broad chest rose and fell with such ease, as if the weight of the world had been lifted. Your shoulders, usually tense from hauling burdens, seemed to sink right into the mattress with relief. I wanted so badly to climb into your dreams where you were finally content, and yet I wondered what might happen if you woke that moment to my face as a reminder of what world you were entering. I took my leave at that thought and slipped through the crack of your bedroom door, but it follows me always now. A vision of your resting body is burnt on my brain. I can't escape it when I sleep, for it is painted masterfully on the insides of my eyelids. It is all I see when I close my eyes. I had taken a picture of my worst fear- memorized every detail of what I could never give. I find myself reaching for the door. Don't let me slip out again. |