Crying Sydney©
I woke up to sobbing
Hopeless, desolate crying
and he was huddled into a corner
scrunched up like a frightened child
between the desk and the dresser
he was shaking
and rocking himself back and forth
I sat across from him, my knees to his
held his cheeks, hot with tears
"Lover," I whispered, "Why are you crying?"
"I don't know if there is a God,
and I can't remember if we exist."
he took my hands into his own
caressed the dent in my finger from writing
concentrated on his boney, white fingers
and my tiny, bruised palms
"Sydney," I breathed,
"Will there always be room for me in your bed?"
"No," his tears had stopped
"But you'll always be welcome in my heart."
my head now on his chest
my fingers on his spine
I began to cry
hopelessly, desolately sobbing
"Lover," he smiled, "Why are you crying?"
"Because I can't lock this moment away
to keep forever to myself."
"Oh," he nodded, "I smell it in your veins."
"And I in yours."
I wiped the tears off his chest
sticky with sweat
desperation is what we could smell
"Sydney?"
"Yes?"
"Come back to bed."
"Yes."
"You're crazy."
"Yes."
