Brian Kelly Irons

I sat beneath the elm, wishing you hadn’t left. The moon cast a silvery glow upon my face. For so long, I watched you, moving in and out of your life without a single hint of my presence. I was there with you when you drove to his house. I was with you when you kissed him. I was with you when he took you into his bed. I am with you even now.

I watched as you tied your laces that morning. Up, and under, over, and through. Your delicate hands flawlessly navigating each movement with such grace and vulnerability that I was driven to tears. Then, as usual, you destroy everything; of course, without knowing. How could you possibly know? If you had known that I was there, would you have loved me? Would you have allowed me to defile you as you have allowed him to do the same?

I was with you that night when you were alone. I heard your thoughts, your dreams of him. Your longing to be taken with such depravity that I cannot utter the words. Do you remember? You closed your eyes and whispered his name. Do you remember? I cried for you to stop. And then you stopped.

There was so much blood. I bathed in your demise. Do you remember? I watched you die. I watched as you took your last breath and released me from my torment. Your eyes beheld me, I know. It was such a terrible thing to do, and yet, as I sit here beneath the elm where I buried you, with the moon upon my face, I know that you see me. You finally see me.

Do you remember?