Tainted Lullabies
A Poem

Angels float about his head
in the dusty room
lit an eerily quiet blue.
He turns to look at me again
to make sure I’m still here.
He stares and I smile back again.
His countenance softens
and his brow relaxes
as his eyes give off a loving glow.
I stare at his hands,
large and roughened.
Where has that little boy gone?
I feel the waxen flower behind my ear.
I remember the barter
that put me here.
He smiles at me,
and for the smallest second,
I see—
no, no, it was just a trick of the light.
Stubborn and endearing,
he's changed so much now.
I hear the boards creak beneath his weight.
He stands before me.
He holds my chin and brings my eyes up to his. He stares into me and he smiles
unaware of my fleeting thoughts of treason.
He kisses my temple as he cradles my cheek.
I gasp and he steps back,
fear in his eyes.
I try to stay calm.
It’s too much the same as that day.
I tell him the truth.
It quells his panic.
He nods and his eyes swim in nostalgia.
He sits next to me.
I see his hand with his trembling fingers
clutching the cloth that covers his leg.
I put my hand on top of his.
His fingers relax and the muscles yield.
I lace my fingers with his own, both hands slender.
I kiss his cheek and rest
my head against his shoulder.
He gasps a little and his shoulder becomes supple, with his fear lost.
I can’t leave him.
Not just because of our childhood promise.
Not because I am afraid.
I’m not any longer.
I live for these moments,
though they’re few and far between.
When I see him, endearing and sweet,
as the day we traded
a flower for a flower.