Pages From A Marriage

Late one night in a piano room
we became more than friends.
I discovered the softness of your skin
and the warmth of your lips.

The next day I came to your room
and we formed an embrace and I saw your smile.
On that day a part of my soul even then
knew I wanted to be yours.

I fell and during that summer
I thought of you more and more often.
My missing you grew until
I couldn’t wait until you returned.

We took pictures on the East Campus wall
and had brunches with friends at Frickadill’s.
I made earrings from a superball and
we wandered in the woods and on the hills.

I fell in love with your gap and glasses.
I fell in love with your bright smile.
We nurtured and fought like young lovers,
even when separated for a while.

We stumbled around early on
wondering what we each should do
and then we each found paths that allowed
us to walk in parallel into the future.

I visited you in Atlanta
and you told me I was too thin.
We both felt like we were finally
on our way to our future together.

We chose to have children
and each of them is amazing.
There is nothing that either of us
wouldn’t do to keep them safe.

Your gap is filled and our bodies have changed;
we each have scars inside and out.
I don’t know if we have lost our way—
sometimes we only growl and shout.

Late one night in a piano room
you became more than my friend.
And I daily pray that it will not end.

Not yet.

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