Love is choosing to stand
by him, my restless man
lost to endless haze
with blistered hands,

while I make coffee
then wash my cup
remembering
loyalty forged in sweat and blood

like golden strings stretched tight to burst,
I writhe, I bite remembering
hands on my back
counting down the days

he’s on the road
eating gas station food
but tells me he can’t
**** on the bus- that’s rude.

Each strike of the drum
each chord a sirens call
I recall a melody of shadows
on our bedroom wall.

Like dashes on an empty road
where silence falls and neon glows.
Who are these zombies?
Strange crowds they roar and grow

with plastic cups at every show?
but I am here do not forget
faithful, true and waiting yet-
my solemn promise woven tight

over the years I’ve been
waiting up for you each and every night.