FREE VERSE Poem: My Beloved, by Margaret Marcum

So predictable like the rain but
love doesn’t make it storm any less.

Your sadness, so beautiful,
your brokenness sings me to you—
fragile like the waves you
break on the shore,
while I try to hold you
in my hands, fading into shells,
a place we try to make home too.

How could I have known
there were really twelve of you,
and one night you would find another
seat at a table where there would be more
food to be peeled, shucked, devoured?

Bleed my hands to wood and play me,
puppet master, string me to life—
animate my heart, cartoon red and ghoulish pink—
but what was worse,
we loved each other most.

Author: poetryfest

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