He was weak,
so I gave him power
through my love.
He called at one, two,
three a.m. to say that
he needed someone to listen,
and I was always there.
He showed up on my doorstep,
said he couldn't bear
to be alone, needed
my human touch.
My arms were always open.
When he was in jail
and said he needed
to hear a female voice,
mine cooed to him
sympathetically
over the phone line.
He needed to borrow money,
and I opened up my purse
without a second thought.
He needed medications.
I brought home samples,
called things in,
ran the machine to him
late at night so he
could do breathing treatments.
On his birthday, I wanted
to make him feel special,
brought a cake to his work,
hid it until his staff
could light it and sing
Happy Birthday to him.
Anything that was mine
was his without question.
I wanted to love him
anyway that I could.
He got stronger,
slept through the night
without ever having to call,
wasn't afraid of being alone,
got new hobbies, new friends,
became busy and didn't
need me anymore.
He is strong now,
strong enough to
say goodbye...
And I am weak,
crying, scared
to be alone,
and there is
no one
I can call.
He would never
answer.
I thought
that he
loved me.
