The Unsung Lullaby

the past:
she demanded he run a marathon

just so he could prove he loved her-

and he did.

people called him stupid

and weak.

he walked away

with head bowed in shame

when she discarded him

for his weaknesses.

the present:

Jo-Ann collected his tears

bottled them up

and fermented them;

over time

the stench became

unbearable,

it was sickening,

but he revisited them

though Jo hid them in a shelf

far beyond his imagination.

he bathed in them every morning

just to remind himself they exist.

at evening

Jo washed his body

and watched the pain slink

through the drain

like mucus from a newborn babe;

he held her

and said:

"thank you."

she smiled

with the pain

he couldn't see

the walls he built

the hate he held on to

the remnants of him-

shrapnel of "her" still nailed within him-

were the prison bars

the waiting gallows

and broken glass

he thought were attacking him

in bed

while he slept

safely next to Jo

the future:

one day Jo got tired of bathing him

the grown man's stench was

more than she could bear

the pain coiled up inside him

was the pain coiled up inside her

and she paid

every bitter drawl

every mismatched showdown

every misunderstood sentence

for the things he couldn't control

but Jo gave him control of her

and she thought that enough to

brand their love  into a time

that never came

the end:
Jo left him

in the bathtub,

partly submerged in fresh blood-

he says:

she drained his heart of

all that he had left.

but he didn't recognize

that the piece she begged of him

and the piece he promised her

had long disintegrated

with the lullaby he promised

but never sung.