Patchwork Quilt

Photo by olia danilevich on
I wish I could remember all of you,
But what I am left are just fragments,
Some sweet, some bitter, some angry,
All withstanding the test of time,

If you asked me to describe you
From head to toe, I couldn’t.
I could only describe the furrow
Of your brow when you felt insecure,
Or the intensity of your eyes 
When you desired me,
Or the gape of your smile at its peak
When you help others,
Or the soft strength of your bicep
As it brushed against my cheek
When you tucked me into bed once,
The gentle rise and fall
Of your chest as you sleep,
Unassuming, not a care in the world,

I remember the pattern of your leg hair,
And how I wanted to run my fingers through it
From your calves up to your thighs,
I remember you inside me,
The feeling, the sound,
The weight of your body over mine,
How your body enveloped me,
And safely cuddled me after,

I cannot remember every word you said,
Or full conversations we had,
I just remember singular sentences 
Like “never say never”,
Or the fact that you forced me so hard
To learn your language without first easing me into it,

Sometimes, what I remember most
Is the “uhs” and the “ums”
That you inserted in between sentences,
Unsure of your place in the world
Yet alone our conversation,
I mainly remember, all the words
You never told me like “I love you”,
Even if deep down inside you meant it,
You never told me,

I remember those small moments,
Literally milliseconds, snapshots of who you are
Because I never had all of you, just a piece,
You never let me have all of you,

I still carry the pieces of the men
That they freely gave me,
Like a patchwork quilt
Until a man’s love can cloak my whole heart,
And give me the warmth and safety I deserve

~By Hyacinth Hale

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