Text

my hands
twitched
the tremors
had not subsided
with time
as the doctor
had said
when i touched
her face she
took one
of my hands
in hers and
her face was
full a sort of
grave compassion
removed
by one
the value was
not something
i could measure
it just was

when i woke
up in the hospital
the taste of
charcoal
black grime
she was there
her mouth set
and eyes so dark
she did not ask
why
only held
my hand and
let me croak
out answers to
the questions
of the nurses
they had a sort
of stern cheer
it made me want
to crawl away
like a wounded
animal

she visited me
in the hospital
every day
her mouth would
smile
she never wore
any makeup
it was as if she
had forgotten
what it was for
she would ask
me how my day
was and would
tell me about
her day
about the friends
she had visited
work, of course

when i got
home i wilted
weight was lost
i took to bed
she did not tell
me it would get
better
she did not tell
me she loved me
i could not remember
the last time we
had fucked
i set out to prove
to her i loved
her
i put on lipstick
and a cheap sort
of perfume
when i kissed her
mouth she submitted
in the bedroom we
made a desperate
sort of love
the kind you make
when the bottom
half of your
body has gone
dead but you have
to prove that
you are still
sexual
that you are
not dead

i didn't touch
her afterwards
my hands shook
steadily and
i traced the
scars that were
like a patchwork
on my arms
i wondered if
this time i would
succeed
she needed to
be set free
and there was
only one way
to do that

i left no note
nothing
her freedom
would be enough
i hoped that
she would understand

i was burying her
alive