He tells me he makes movies, I don’t ask what kind.
I tell him I sew buttons, and that I am losing my mind.
We decide we will elope, begin a new life together.
I leave all of my possessions, except my emerald sweater.
We plan our escape carefully, ensuring a smooth exit,
He says I fill his heart with emotion, and I know he means it.
From time to time I waver, I am often unsure,
But his love and confidence in us makes me feel secure.
We revel in one another’s company, this is what we’d dreamed.
The reason we had ran away, the reason we had schemed.
I find work pouring tea through a strainer
He works in construction, as a carpenter, a brickie or a painter
I must admit that on longer days, with a tired mind
I often think of home, of what I have left behind.
I pull out my old emerald sweater, find comfort in it’s wool
I start to think of the last few months, have I been a fool?
I realise I know nothing about him, how he fills his days
All I know is he goes somewhere, and that it pays.
For weeks I keep my suspicions secret, confiding in no-one.
I begin to worry he will escape again, that soon he will be gone.
Of course he senses somethings wrong, he can feel me doubt
And though we had shared all before, now neither opens our mouth.
The rotten tendrils of mistrust and worry begin to poison our life
I start to dream of drowning, of the comfort of a knife.
I never thought I would say this, that I could regret the move
I suppose I thought I understood all the mysteries of love.
But love is not for me, its not in my blood
Its only for saintly ones, who are willing to be good.
One night, with wine for bravery, I ask him about his past
About what movies he had made, my nerve breaking at last.
He tells me all about them, explaining what they were for,
That he had won numerous awards, that he was the director.
For why, I felt I had to know, had he left such a world behind
He blinks and looks deeply at me, is he reading my mind?
I did it for your love, he says, so that we could be together
I need to have the time so that I can love you better
I well up with tears, he is surely true
I can tell in his eyes of deepest blue
He takes my hand in his gentle one
And I’m sure my mind is gone.
This post was prompted by Flash Fiction Challenge Week 7