Kings and Queens and Movie Stars
Morning. My husband dozes. From bed, I study our wedding photo on the opposite wall and I say how beautiful they are, how wonderful.
a branch releases
They must be kings or queens, my husband says groggily. Or movie stars.
It hurts me to know I can't go back to the man in that photo. That I can't tell that man again – why didn't I do it more often – how special he is to me, how much I miss him and his arms that used to hold me through the night. Reluctantly I climb out of bed and kneel to say morning prayers. Then I kiss the forehead of the man I lost – and the man I find.
They are, I tell him, his eyes still closed. They are kings and queens and movie stars.
I know that it's you
I'm dying for