by Meghan Helmich
The way a light sunburn itches
when the sun goes down.
No, I'll miss you more than that.
David, I'll miss you in an aching fashion.
Some days I may take ibuprofen for the pain,
but other days might require relief
I cannot provide for myself.
Sleeping until I'm numb.
I barely see you now, so I'm not leaving
much more than what I've built
you up to be in my heart.
But when you touch me, it leaves a mark.
A ghost bruise that I nurse
well after the encounter is over.
I love you. That is a contusion
that must fade over time,
but never really goes away completely.
Author's Note: I hope you don't cry when I tell you I'm leaving. But then again, I hope you don't shrug.
Posted on 09/23/2017
Copyright © 2018 Meghan Helmich
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 03/12/18 at 12:57 PM|
I love this poems every nuance and delicacy of touch which cannot help but be in league with flower petals, the pluckings of which we would ultimately hope to render us, loved. Congratulations on POTD.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/12/18 at 07:36 PM|
I agree with Philip about the delicate touch to this poem. To love and yet leave, much unsaid here, which makes for a bit of mystery. Congrats on POTD!