May the Ink Remain

I’ve wrapped myself up in the silken tapestries I pulled from the breath of her dreams- hoping the flow of my wounds won’t sour her memory of their beauty. I’ve driven nails into the floor, just in front of my doorway; He’ll trip before he reaches me. All I need is a little time. If I have to do it. I’ll unhinge what I’ve been crossing swords with in-between the thrumming of his quaking 6-string. Playing the same, unforgiving song- over and over. Just to watch me twinge. Becoming the vibration. If I have to let it loose to conquer the shadows cast by lucidity- May the rain wash the blood from my letters, and the ink remain. I want her to know that I never meant to let him get between us. That I stared him down in the mirror, every morning. Before kissing her forehead and burying his curses in the laundry before leaving- trying to become whole. Hoping she could find a way to devour what I was destined to become. Because I was too weak to watch myself turn into the embers he shoveled into my throat when I tried to explain why I thought that no matter how much I loved her. Having a child, was a bad idea. I didn’t want to pass this on. I can’t allow it to continue. So, I stay awake at night. Waiting. For the trip. So I can break the mirror. And let the rainfall. Become the embers. And imagine it's her embrace; A deluge softening the fire and letting me slip comfortably into the silence that was never meant to be between her, and I. -James Kelley 2017