August

I asked men who felt no pain,

what it was like to fall in a maddening love.

They brushed off my question

with a sweet kiss and sideways smile

and told me that staying the night

was no problem.

But as each night came and left

I stayed awake wondering where

they could be, drinking beer at bars

with nameless women who fucked just as good

and kept their mouth quiet.

A fear grew in me that became a good friend

and we spent most nights together

—terrified, but accompanied to say the least.

But this comfort became numbing

and ached my writhing soul.

And my written words were just that

—a smooth bend of vowels and consonants

that could not compare to the

curve of their lips.

So I stood up with optimism

and stretched my sore limbs,

opened burdened eyes

and breathed in stale air

that I told myself would restore my sanity

and subside my woe.

But I ran too fast and felt my feet fall,

kissed the floor like we had done

after each “See You Soon,”

and lay there while comfort healed my

fleshy wounds.

Each man walked away unscathed

and feeling no pain.

I was put to bed rest with closed curtains

and locked doors.

Open cuts that turned to scabs

and lesions that left me wondering

what it was like to fall in maddening love.

And I lay there with comfort and fear

who consoled me- even in the stale air.

And I kept my mouth quiet the following night

— a sweet kiss and sideways smile

to keep me safe and content and

convince myself that

that would suffice.