Weiss Kreuz - slash_me_twice - 025. I

[newtypeshadow46]

025. I
Notes: from exercise 28 in Room to Write by Bonni Goldberg
03-03-07
*

I don’t see the way the wind plays with your hair like my fingers when you sat in front of me wheeling up the path.

I don’t see the way the sun makes your skin glow with a healthy luster now that you’re outside on your own.

I don’t see the way your eyes narrow in thought, or the way your smile slips like a thief across your face.

I don’t see the way your hands seek stems to arrange or the way you hold your chopsticks like they’re instruments of darker things.

I don’t see the look on your face when your sister sees you in the street and comes dashing up, skirts fluttering behind.

I don’t see you wash your hands compulsively after cooking red meat, or how you shave carefully so as not to spill blood.

I don’t see your face as you sleep, twisted with guilty dreams.

I don’t see how you look at our picture and then hide it in your drawer like it’s some kind of pornography.

I don’t see the phones you pick up to dial your nurse before putting them down because wanting is wrong.

I don’t see your struggle not to run from your sister, your new friends, your new life, and into my arms.

But I do see your face as you stand on my doorstep and look on me kindly for the first time since Abyssinian returned.

And I do see your relief as I step back and smile, letting you inside.