No make believe.
Pain in the pit of my stomach
A churning ball of harsh emotion
Fenced in with nowhere to run.
I desire to scream and beat my fists
But your words don't come.
This is the expectation, the truth.
The arm. Over me. Deadweight choking my breath.
I stare into the black.
Wanting so much for this all to be right. Wanting to love us both despite the crevasse of difference..
My tears are heard, not seen.
I need a string of shaped comfort,
I need to know I'm okay. Just okay.
But your words don't come and I am left stranded and alone in a bed for two.
Terribly alone
Like a flailing dinghy lost in the dark sea.
