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Canopy Bridges
by Angela ThomasI know the truth about you. I crawled back into your life last night, after everyone had gone to sleep. Sneaking around because someone finding out would mean much more than just a slap on the wrist, for either of us. You're high profile and carry so much on your shoulders, literally. Hundreds of pounds piled on under the stress of your back, and the six little white pills it took to get you five hours, keep you pinned down. As cliche as it is, I kissed every inch of you last night, trying to remember your smell, the hardness your body gave off and the softness that lay curled up just under your eyes, resting on your cheeks. You can't lie to me. Under the canopy bridge, I know the truth. I know why we hit the snooze button for that fifteen more minutes of pretending to sleep, dragging our lips across each others hands and trying to hold on to the night like it was a roof in a storm, it's leaving, and there's nothing you can do about it. Still, you do give me the most beautiful sleep. There is truth in this, truth in that I know you, the scared twenty year old who lost his father three weeks ago and spent last night watching me morph from an unsympathetic authority figure to a woman who just wanted to rub the pain away and take the word sacrifice off your back. It's the canopy that keeps these secrets. I'll see you in a few days, when you have a break, and some new scars for me to tend to. Meet you under the canopy. 09/09/2004 Author's Note: for William. for strength and for all the beautiful things about you.
Posted on 09/09/2004
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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