My husband had a difficult time adjusting to being married. We have been married for three months now and it is a lot better. I wrote this a week after we were married after an unfortunate event. We both have schizophrenia:
And yes, a crazy crush, happens out of knowing how not to choose to speak. He will begin to speak again. I lay silent, and whisper to myself. “Gentle, go, gentle”. Love only comes out of knowing. And let no one be left behind without the falling grace of that, “And yes, go gentle, go gentle.” I repeat. I just wait for him to reach over, but he is sleeping. He will leave me in the morning, restless in a nightmare and he may peel my eyelids open to watch the terror too. In his curiosity lies another kind of knowing, that which I do not know, but I will try to understand with time.
I will stay hurt, always without regret too, but the dreams will sting back to love. And now we are in separate rooms and he turns his back. I remember how gently he took an eyelash off of my cheek only yesterday. Under the sunlight glimmering off of my delicate freckles, above the lips that you used to kiss. And still I wait for another. Left foot, right foot, just walk to feel alive, because everything else is as if I was one of those beetles I used to trap and watch die, with intense excitement and loss, with no release, except back to air. Remains leftover.
After a restless night I begin to daydream. I do not feel pain, or angst and have been thinking of everything but you. And a wave of forgiveness washes over me, I have released you now. And now I wait for your return. I do have to give you the right words now. You touch me with a distant repose and speak softly. You try to move but I make you slower, and yes we are still in love. You still do not say “our”, and I curl.
You might lift me again and bring me back to the air that exists between us now, and let me breathe again. I will wait for you, baby. Just go easy with me. Touch me gently like you have before, and respond to me from your brilliance. The love songs keep changing their meaning to me and the sun will come up to shine on us both. Together someday with the beauty of our first embrace, and when you really meant to say “this much”. It is still daylight. The morning has been an eternity shortened to actual fragments again.
You just follow me. I am your leader. That might never change.