the imminent wreckage of a forthcoming tide

by SecondPrances

the tattered edges of a broken illusion is where we are

When I woke up this
morning, I didn't
love you anymore.

yesterday I had,
or at least as far
as I can remember.

there was such a yearning
deep down, in my heart
that pounded, and tried
to escape my chest

yesterday when I
looked upon your face,
a flame so bright
it burned something
fierce in my soul

Today, as I see
your slumbering form
jumble of wings and
fur. Mane unkempt
Disquiet snores
your being
occupying so much space
next to me.

Today, I don't love
you. Not like I did
yesterday.
where is the roaring fire
instead, looking
upon your peaceful
sleeping form I feel
safe
secure
comfortable
tame desire, still there.

The want
to be next to you
as bright as ever;
can I still be
your love
if I don't feel it
the same anymore?

what disservice must
I do for all the wondrous
heart you bring
to this notion of
'us', when I have
nothing so much
to give in return.
What is this love
but the desire of 'us',
muted though
It may be.

And do you still love me?
The same way, too?
As I ponder and mull
wrapped in thoughts
as tendrils, writhing
occupying precious space
within my worried mind
your hoof
under warm morning glow
sensing my anxiety
reaches out
touches mine

You're awake
though I never heard you
Nor considered
the quickening of your breath

as you grumble
grasp at consciousness
stir yourself from slumber
lazily, content,
rousing from some cozy dream
your favourite hobby
undoubtedly
you peer at me
with eyes so intense
intelligent
knowing

"What is it?"
you ask

"Nothing,"
I say, and I tell the truth
I remembered
why I loved you
and I do so
all over again

"Want to go to the park today?
It's been so long
since we had a good picnic."

"Nah," you're quick to respond,
rolling over to catch me in warm wings
"I think I'd rather just stay in bed
with you."