Equal

I want to know
what his love feels like
on a perfectly
normal day
when nothing is wrong
or misaligned—

I want to know
what his love feels like
when we run out
of things to say
and all we have is
the lingering silence—

I want to know
what his love feels like
when something goes wrong
and trying to fix it
forces us
to expand ourselves—

I want to know
what his love feels like
wrapped around me
on a night
cold and quiet
as this loneliness—

I want to know
what it feels like
in the morning
to wake up in the same bed
where his love is mixed up
equally with mine.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-7-17

Aquatint by Evelynne Mess, “Adirondack Trail,” 1945

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