The Tear

I was eighteen once
And so in love.
I was an awkward cliché
Wrapped in passion.

I had Nothing
You were my Everything.
Such soft simple words
So fragile
Almost childish in their lack
They still feel so soft
Like your lips, your skin
Like the gentle curve of your neck
The insides of your wrists
Held open in surrender.

Yet not childish,
perhaps child-like.

One night
In the middle of a raging storm
Out on the water somewhere
I turned in my sleep
Opened blissed-out eyes
To see a single, sad tear
Roll slowly down
The soft, smooth mound
of your cheek
Whispering gently as I recall:
“My Love what troubles you?”
Alas, too distraught,
You said Nothing.

I’d never felt so content
As I did lying naked with you
Yet to be with you
In your arms
In a raging storm
As you wept
I’d never felt as wretched.
To be loved
And to be Beloved
Yet to know your sadness
Was so intimate
So much a part of you
The one I adored.

Your anguish
So much a part of you
It could barely seep out
One tear at a time
In the dead of night
As I lay sleeping
In the arms of a raging storm.

Wherever you are
My beautiful friend,
my once Beloved,
you who taught me
the terrible fear
and longing
of intimacy,
The breathless wonder of
Being loved and in love.

Remember me,
I was eighteen once.
And yes,
Oh God yes,
so were you.