As you look out on this, our morning,
the mornings we have shared together in intimacy and secret.
On borrowed time.
I supposed I should have known our world would meet its end.
Still, I wanted to spend forever with you.
In this, our home.
In the quiet of our field,
surrounded by trees that were to be our shield.
In our home with walls you painted yellow on a whim,
a gleam in your eye and freedom in your smile.
How I could have watched you paint and dance forever.
Spend every meal with you,
singing and swinging while we tidy up our mess.
You in your elaborate dress.
Though you never thought it elaborate, you thought it true.
True to you.
And how true it was.
Your elation with each rise of the sun,
each twirl of your skirt,
every time you kissed me with a smile and a sigh.
And with each rise of the moon,
I at your side
felt the glow through our cracked window.
Our scent in the air and you as my alter.
Except,
now I am sure we will never sleep in the same bed again.
Because we see him in the field now.
He who has come with brothers.
He who has come to end our depravity.
Who has a cruel grip on my heart,
squeezing slowly as he nears,
knowing he has shattered my future.
And I know that look.
I’ve studied and mapped every inch of you.
In every lifetime, yours would be the only face I ever drew.
My mystery muse.
You won’t want me to fight him
But I will.
I will fight for our mornings and evenings.
And in the end,
I will watch as they will take you away from me and
I from you and
I am not sure which is worse.
All I know is I will remember the sketches of us on the bedside table and the lipstick stain on
your favorite mug and on the right side of my neck.
- n.t.
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