#6

Love

I had a dream about you, you had died.
I woke up screaming, could not breathe, and I
was forced to slip away from my warm bed
to check if you still breathed. You did. I cried.
That's love, for me, the pain that goes with joy,
the fright that leaps into my heart at signs
of age, ill health, disease. No more a boy,
coy Time has greyed your hair and drawn fine lines.
I told you how I dreamed but you would not
give comfort to me with old lies. Instead
you said full face, “I'll die, sweetheart, I've got
only so much life.” I went back to bed.
But there's only so long for me to hide,
and I couldn't love you more if you had lied.