Realm of the Muse - Cruelty
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.
I was twenty-four years old, when I first laid with him. He had to coax me to let him open up the soggy, thick robe. I was so ashamed of the scars from all of the cancer treatments. I didn’t want him to see me that way. Less than perfect. Less than. But he didn’t care. Or maybe he just didn’t let me see it. I had my eyes closed, the shame and embarrassment keeping me from looking at him. I was so afraid he would be disgusted. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Liar. But I had no idea at that time how many women he had seen, or how big a lie he mercifully told me. But oh…I loved him for that. I did.
The first time ever I kissed your mouth
And felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
That was there at my command.
He is perfect. His physical body is like Adonis. Sleek. Unmarked. Unwrinkled and unscarred by this life that he has lived for so long. So long. There were nights that I would watch him sleeping, just letting my eyes feast on the glorious perfection lying next to me. From his toes to his splendid nose, he was all things that a man should be. And he would remain this way forever. Perfect beauty. I would see him in my dreams, in his perfection, for all of my days. He would always be as he was that first time.
And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time my love
It would last till the end of time my love
I was twenty-five years old, the last time he saw me naked. He eased the hospital gown off of me, without my help, and he looked at me. My skin was so thin and bruises ran over every place that they had redone the IV’s. There were stickers and tape all over my chest. There was a urine catheter. My breasts were flat, deflated, drooped to my ribs that showed through. My legs were shriveled and unshaven, and without even the strength to help him as he tried to get me into my own nightgown. My hair had all turned grayish silver, and where it wasn’t falling out, it was coarse and dry. My eyes sank into my thin face, and my hands held IV’s and blue veins. There was no color. No beauty. Only the hideous, cruel truth of what cancer had done to me. But he didn’t flinch. Not a bit.
Bless him.
The first time ever I saw your face, your face,
your face,
your face.
There are scars on me now, but not like before. These are marks of a differently cruel enemy. But compared to that last view he had of me, it’s nothing. I’m beautiful, now. Perhaps the cruelest irony of it all is that his last memory of my body is of that decayed corpse with an oxygen tube in her nose. It’s humiliating. It’s cruel.
So, so cruel.
Of all the things I hate about this life, that’s the one I hate the most.
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.
I was twenty-four years old, when I first laid with him. He had to coax me to let him open up the soggy, thick robe. I was so ashamed of the scars from all of the cancer treatments. I didn’t want him to see me that way. Less than perfect. Less than. But he didn’t care. Or maybe he just didn’t let me see it. I had my eyes closed, the shame and embarrassment keeping me from looking at him. I was so afraid he would be disgusted. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Liar. But I had no idea at that time how many women he had seen, or how big a lie he mercifully told me. But oh…I loved him for that. I did.
The first time ever I kissed your mouth
And felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
That was there at my command.
He is perfect. His physical body is like Adonis. Sleek. Unmarked. Unwrinkled and unscarred by this life that he has lived for so long. So long. There were nights that I would watch him sleeping, just letting my eyes feast on the glorious perfection lying next to me. From his toes to his splendid nose, he was all things that a man should be. And he would remain this way forever. Perfect beauty. I would see him in my dreams, in his perfection, for all of my days. He would always be as he was that first time.
And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time my love
It would last till the end of time my love
I was twenty-five years old, the last time he saw me naked. He eased the hospital gown off of me, without my help, and he looked at me. My skin was so thin and bruises ran over every place that they had redone the IV’s. There were stickers and tape all over my chest. There was a urine catheter. My breasts were flat, deflated, drooped to my ribs that showed through. My legs were shriveled and unshaven, and without even the strength to help him as he tried to get me into my own nightgown. My hair had all turned grayish silver, and where it wasn’t falling out, it was coarse and dry. My eyes sank into my thin face, and my hands held IV’s and blue veins. There was no color. No beauty. Only the hideous, cruel truth of what cancer had done to me. But he didn’t flinch. Not a bit.
Bless him.
The first time ever I saw your face, your face,
your face,
your face.
There are scars on me now, but not like before. These are marks of a differently cruel enemy. But compared to that last view he had of me, it’s nothing. I’m beautiful, now. Perhaps the cruelest irony of it all is that his last memory of my body is of that decayed corpse with an oxygen tube in her nose. It’s humiliating. It’s cruel.
So, so cruel.
Of all the things I hate about this life, that’s the one I hate the most.