I’ve become reaquainted with the pen and paper lately, and this poem emerged as I wrote in my journal the other day.
As You Slept
I drank your pain as you
slept last night, your face
tight and tortured by nightmares
I couldn’t see but I could feel.
I cupped my hands under
your eyes, catching the blackness
and raising it to my bruised lips.
When you woke, the sun
was hidden, like me, lingering
in shadows, afraid to touch you.