NOT MY HERO

You stood by the side of the road where

I lay wounded,

Bleeding, refusing to heal,

You did not stoop to lift me in your arms,

Nor pull me up by the hand.

No, you were not my hero,

Not my knight in shining armour.

You simply stood, your hand outstretched,

Just out of reach of mine.

I cried, I cursed, then cried some more,

You simply laughed, in your own strange way,

At me? With me?

Because of me?

Not that I cared.
I looked up from where I lay, laughing

Just a little at your silly grin.

No, you were not my Prince Charming,

Not my dashing Hollywood hero.

I wondered, within my mind,

Would that laughter ever fade?

Would that hand

Ever tire?

Not that I was afraid.

And I stared,

For suddenly your hand seemed

Closer than before,

Though I knew you had not budged an inch.

And I wanted to live,

I wanted to stand.

 

I dreamed of the day I would hold your hand.

Moment in the Sun

My little sunflower. I watch, as you stretch your tiny limbs, reaching for me. I am your sun. I, who have always been cold as death, am now the warmth that gives you life. Your face, just a moment ago a tight, angry red ball is now smooth, white and pure like mother’s milk. I touch you in wonder. It is a softness like I have never felt before, a softness that soothes my callused fingertip as I draw it gently across your rosy, baby cheek.

You stare up at me, the wonder in your squinty eyes mirroring my own. They are still adjusting to the world around…but even at this early stage, I know you know me. Clear green eyes so unlike mine, sparkling like the ripples of a stream in the sun. I lose myself in you.

I watch, seeing my pain in your eyes as your face turns red once more and then blue, and your eyes lose their sparkle as they dull and glaze over. You no longer know me.

And yet you reach out blindly, fingers stretched towards me, even as I strangle you to your death.