In my own body, in my own realm, I am increasingly feeling suffocated.
I weave through warm bathes and tangled white cotton sheets, symbols of comfort and innocence.
I am not sure what I seek to find, but when it’s found I will stop seeking.
Sean, with his bright blue eyes, stares at me from the distant land of The Other Side of the Bed.
He’s trying to get inside of me — in the only way he can anymore –through my eyes.
We open our mouths and sounds come out but we aren’t talking.
I haven’t heard him in months. As for me, I am certain there isn’t anything left to say.
But I hold on to this hope, this frail whisper of a chance, that we can continue our charade.
Only I am tired of being a pantomime.
I can’t breathe any more.