I found this a few months ago and saved it. It didn’t have an author listed and I haven’t found the original. I felt like it was relevant as I just rediscovered it today.
Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button.
I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo.
I never know what to say to these things.
“Come back to bed.”
“Please don’t go away again.”
Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed.
But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders.
Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in.
Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love.
I know better now.
I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands.
“You can stay in bed.”
“Please come back to me again.”