white matter grey matter
At the mercy of medicine, swaddled and still.
Swallowed by a cylindrical vault. Clunk clunk swoosh.
Scanning the very matter of being.
I cannot do this with you my baby,
Out of my depth, pushed to the sidelines, I’ll be waiting.
What will you tell us in images, that you cannot say in words?
My heart no longer beat in rhythm,
But rather fought in starts and stops.
I was standing on the edge of a cliff, trust long taken from me like a shedding of a skin.
Corroded by fear, the gentlest breeze too powerful to contend.
Threat pricked my skin, washed me of colour, blackened my eyes, took my
I just wanted to enjoy you, but what will happen if I do?
You survive a storm only to fear the aftermath.
Love instilled, but terror commanding.
Every moment apart rattled me, it stretched painstakingly slow;
I held my breath, desperate for the tangible rise and fall of tiny breaths witnessed by my own eyes,
Or my mind wandered into the darkness.
Swirling patterns, shapes in tones of shadows, a brain in print.
And there it stood, seemingly innocent to the untrained eye,
White matter, where it should be grey.
It was a slap across my raw cheek which left a lasting sting,
Ignorant, petrified, and roaring with guilt.
Selfishly I feared my future.
When our eyes locked, there was nothing else in sight,
no white matter, grey matter,
I was yours and you were mine.
Completely and unconditionally.