sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
Fifty-Fifth Entry
Harry is lying beside me, arm around my chest, and I cannot bring my head from the pillow on account of the wine I had and my swollen eyes. He found me on the ground when he came home and immediately took off his coat and rushed over. Again, again, he said, but nicely, and kissed me on my cheeks and forehead and eyes and let me cry. He brought me to our room, and kept touching my face. Who, who he said and sounded like an owl. I am home, he also kept repeating. He blamed himself, I think, because I could not speak and my lonliness usually stems from his absensces.
Rev, I answered when I found the strength and he asked if we had had a row. I just kept crying until he finally admitted to himself that he knew the argument. He kissed me again and again, trying to make up for it, trying to tell me he was here, would see it through with me. I could only sob into his shoulder, wetting his shirt, and wait until I couldn't cry anymore. It'll never be the same, I said, but he wiped my wet hair from my face. Yes it will, don't you worry, we'll have a talk, it'll be just the way it was. And he was so serioius and strong and forthright that I could not doubt him. Just the feeling of his arms holding me to his chest, and the steadiness with which he accepted the situation made me feel better. Oh, Harry, why can't you stay with me forever, I sobbed, and he rocked me back and forth like a baby. Soon, Paige, I promise, and I could feel his own tears in my hair. It struck me that he never complains, while all I do is cry and whimper and find myself in superficial plights. Forgive me, I said and sobbed harder and harder, I didn't mean to make your life so difficult. But he never acknowledged it, like the good husband he is. All he said was, I'm here, I'm here, and silently let his own tears fall. His crying made me more panicked than ever. I felt the cold fist gripping at my heart and had to sit up to give him my own kisses, and to pretend that I was again strong.
Look at me, I said, and he looked and smiled and said, We're all going to be all right. And I nodded and was so happy to see the love and the belief in his eyes. He never wavers, even though I would bring any other man down, would weigh them with thoughts and hurts and truths. We drank wine together in the bed and he kissed me as if nothing had ever happened. Tomorrow, it will all be all right.
He lay me down on the bed and kept kissing me. God, I love you, he said, and it was some urgency in his voice that made me remember the day we were married. You will never know how much. I could not answer but only hope that he would save me from myself once again.
I have married a real man and will never forget it.
But still I cannot sleep.
Rev, I answered when I found the strength and he asked if we had had a row. I just kept crying until he finally admitted to himself that he knew the argument. He kissed me again and again, trying to make up for it, trying to tell me he was here, would see it through with me. I could only sob into his shoulder, wetting his shirt, and wait until I couldn't cry anymore. It'll never be the same, I said, but he wiped my wet hair from my face. Yes it will, don't you worry, we'll have a talk, it'll be just the way it was. And he was so serioius and strong and forthright that I could not doubt him. Just the feeling of his arms holding me to his chest, and the steadiness with which he accepted the situation made me feel better. Oh, Harry, why can't you stay with me forever, I sobbed, and he rocked me back and forth like a baby. Soon, Paige, I promise, and I could feel his own tears in my hair. It struck me that he never complains, while all I do is cry and whimper and find myself in superficial plights. Forgive me, I said and sobbed harder and harder, I didn't mean to make your life so difficult. But he never acknowledged it, like the good husband he is. All he said was, I'm here, I'm here, and silently let his own tears fall. His crying made me more panicked than ever. I felt the cold fist gripping at my heart and had to sit up to give him my own kisses, and to pretend that I was again strong.
Look at me, I said, and he looked and smiled and said, We're all going to be all right. And I nodded and was so happy to see the love and the belief in his eyes. He never wavers, even though I would bring any other man down, would weigh them with thoughts and hurts and truths. We drank wine together in the bed and he kissed me as if nothing had ever happened. Tomorrow, it will all be all right.
He lay me down on the bed and kept kissing me. God, I love you, he said, and it was some urgency in his voice that made me remember the day we were married. You will never know how much. I could not answer but only hope that he would save me from myself once again.
I have married a real man and will never forget it.
But still I cannot sleep.
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