i’ve heard fairy tails that couldn’t have sounded
better
than your soft voice
as you tell me the bed time story
that was now only a
string of words so familiar to me like my own
name.
i’ve dreamed in beds that couldn’t nearly make up for the
satisfaction
that i felt when you wrapped me in your tender arms,
after a long day,
i heard the shouts and
screams
and tears that were all now too only
familiar
sounds to me
but up close, when you lay next to me,
a new noise found me.
in between more liquid beads of trust
rolling
down your cheeks onto mine
i heard the words that no
child
desired to hear.
after Dean Eastmond's "Oblivion"