HERE LIES A MAN

Beside me.

Forever.

Here lies a man who doesn’t snore.

Allowing me to quietly type away without my thoughts being disturbed

By his breath.

I look over to him and remember:

He’s moved on without me,

followed me,

waited for me,

and ultimately walks beside me.

We’ve scaled mountains,

his hands on my ass as he pushed me,

onwards and upwards.

Onwards and upwards.

We’ve gotten purposefully lost

in foreign lands,

because that’s how I like to travel.

He has been to hell with me,

held me in the pitch black,

pulled me from the depth of despair,

and showed me that light exists

in even the darkest of spaces.

This man.

This man has never told me:

no.

Never.

Not once.

If I want it, we find a way.

Together.

This man makes my coffee,

and waits patiently to discuss life with me.

Politics, religion, the kids.

I shoot him a look

that says I’m not ready.

It’s too early to talk religion.

He backs down.

Waits for the coffee to kick in.

The coffee has kicked in.

I’m wide awake to all that he is,

and isn’t.