Love poem: Don’t leave (me be)

Love poem: Don’t leave (me be)

I’m unstable
And I can’t tell you I’m unstable
Because I know you’ll leave
I know you’ll leave

I Think I’m Ready Now (The Mirror; the Pink Dress) (1883) by William Merritt Chase, oil on canvas

I look at my telephone; I put it down
I’m running around
I try to picture us together, in the rose gardens and wildflowers
But I’m holding on to a secret that’s like a back brace you don’t see me carrying
I act in idiosyncratic ways
And when I lose sight of your gaze,
I go in transient circles, wondering if I’ve lost you entirely
Come, lie in bed with me
Breathe beside me
Breathe out your exasperated fumes, and I’ll intake your carbon dioxide
All I can get
To move on to the next page
To avoid being stagnant
But it’s out of habit
That I crawl under the covers and I shut my eyes
Praying, only praying, that sleep will come bless me
Like it does, you, when you’re tired of fighting

The chaos that is driving me to combust
To erupt in fragrant comatose remedies only made for
Heavenly maidens under God’s brightly lit eyes
I’m not that type of person
I’m the one that lives with the curse in
-side me like a poison
That’s stumbling and rocking and weaving in between the Heavens to serve me a splendor I
Never deserved

A New York Blizzard (1890), By Frederick Childe Hassam

But I would
I should
Get up in time
Take the frostbite right off me
And take off my hospital gown
Surrendering to the amplified surround sound
The blankets we put over your walls to keep the vocal tone pitch in the points that mesmerize us the most
Haunt us until we’re comatose
In bed with the flu
Poor, sick thing
She’ll be fine by the morning

She’ll be fine
She’ll be fine
She’ll be fine
In time

I awaken in a wretched state; I’m ghastly and ill and,
I hesitate
To reach out
I know how these things go
I know I’m alone
I know my despondency is tragic, in a way that shakes you
Like you don’t want to be shaken
Nobody wants that in place of a lullaby
And I can be that-
That soothing, transient, hypnotic daze
But I’m succumbing to old premonitions
I’m losing the battle
And I can’t let you see my struggle

Lady Constance Leveson-Gower, later Duchess of Westminister (1850) by Franz Xaver Winterhalter (Museum: Royal Collection)

It’s not pretty
It’s not on purpose
But it’s oh so purposeful
I have to move on to move on to the next page
The next page where we’ve arrived at Saturn and your eyes have a glaze like a beautiful vegan donut in a ceramic box
A chamber where I don’t make a noise
Not because I don’t know how to
Because I know not to
I just know not to

I’m losing this battle
Nobody’s on the line
And I know, I know, that in time I’ll be fine
But how I wish
Can only wish
That you were here to tell me

The twenty-seven different beautiful things you see in me
And how that projection spontaneously came to be
That’s what truly most interests me

Interior of a Baroque Church (circa 1660) by Emanuel de Witte, oil on canvas

But I won’t ask
Shove the covers and refuse to speak to my mother
I go through everything alone; it’s the way this life paves
One day I’ll be at the Heavenly gates asking for forgiveness

And I don’t think that’ll be quite in store
Or offered
To someone like me

Will you still love me?

I’m too scared to look

2 thoughts on “Love poem: Don’t leave (me be)

  1. This poem is very vulnerable and honest, and it pains me to read it and feel that this is more a confession than simply prose. Perhaps that’s what makes your writing so real, and why I love it so much.

    1. Wow, thank you so much. That was a wonderful compliment to receive. Yeah – it is confessional, but I’m afraid that’s what the vast majority of my poetry is. It comes from somewhere. Thank you for your comment. xo

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