In my eyes/The choices I made

Posted by M on September 10, 19101 at 17:04:37:

My hands are fluttering across his face
casting butterfly shadows
where blue evening’s light
doesn’t illuminate his features

he talks too much
and his speech is
harsh to my ears
not the arabic
I have come to expect
to love, to yearn for

sometimes I wake
from wide-eyed slumber
to hear myself laughing
at something he said
some childhood memory
a military school misadventure

there is always a part
of me
holding back
observing from the outside
a none too gentle watcher
who comments on his
every mistake
his lack of polish
reminding me
that my heart does
not beat with his

and he reminds me, too
I know I am not in your eyes, he often says
no, he isn’t
he lies somewhere ON my eyes
an object floating in vitreous
liquid
but not the iris, the pupil,
the retina of my eye

his scent is too sweet
of sugar left to soak in,
rose water and
orange blossom water
left to steep
for too long

his scent coats the roof
of my mouth, furs my tongue
the inside of my nose
the cilia in my lungs

i fall asleep
to his droning voice
his hand on
my tummy
searching for faint
flutterings

of the only
tie between
me and him
that is not
false and overwrought

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