Note: This is not a personal poem.
You keep me sane amid the winter’s bite,
in between raised webs of scar tissue
& sticky streams of blood
You keep me warm in this drafty room,
using your tender kisses
& your fierce hold on me to blot out the chill—
the muscles of your biceps & triceps
knotting, bunching, & jumping like cable wiring
while I shiver, shrouded, in our cotton bedsheets
You weigh me down like a stone,
even when I struggle
to slip out from under you,
like popping to the riverbed’s surface to gasp for air
You keep me sane in the winter of my mental disorder,
restraining me from the black-blue bruise of evening
to the pink-cheeked flush of morning
fighting your drooping eyes,
fighting me
& my itch to drag a razor across my forearms,
my desire to make my tributary veins weep rubies
M.B.B.
4/30/2020
Note: Jude to Willem, two characters from Hanya Yangihara’s A Little Life. Self-harm is a very serious subject, one I do not condone. If you or anyone you know is going through a rough time because of the Corona virus or something else, please seek help. You are not alone in this. This poem is a sign of Willem’s ability to help his boyfriend through rough times, particularly the trauma he suffered from when he was first a boy, and then a teenager.
The Nerdy Nook 