Prisonic Memory

Two people trapped: A woman, confined to a home living alone, her husband, left in the prison of his mind. Understand them, live through them, release them.

A single phrase left unspoken
two hearts forever broken
he matches my fury with his
braving my storm, taking a risk

It doesn’t hold a candle to the truth
one I wear like a dark angry bruise
I need him, depend on him more
I feel his absence, shaken to the core

So many memories lost in his mind
forbidden to him, impossible to find
buried there with our shared past
a life I thought too good to last

It took him two years ago today
his heart, soul, it took it all away
I see him now, lost, like a child
Every so often his eyes grow wild

He forgets his name, where he is
Just by his chair, there is a list
A moment of lucidity his request
to read of his life before he could rest

He asked me to write it late one night
I thought it strange, but he was right
I did it so that he would always see
his name, his age, his worth to me

It wasn’t enough, that short list
It amounted to nothing, not even a kiss
but it was all he wanted, simple, plain
because if he forgot, he’d know what to blame

It was this disease, this damned plague
he ceased to exist, had started to fade
There is a shell of a man before my eyes
I see it guiding him closer to his demise

Lying here I try to remember life as it was
this empty room filled with memories of us
his scent, his breath, all haunting my dreams
Knowing he’ll never be here again, I want to scream

He’s in the next room, asleep in his chair
Seeing him falling apart, I cannot bear
He calls out to me, voice weak, absent of life
thinking I am his nurse and not his wife

The conversations get shorter each time
They break me down but I pretend I am fine
Only for his sake, I’ll shield him from my pain
He sees my mask, but behind it, my tears fall like rain

I let him believe there is nothing wrong
my days of forced happiness are endlessly long
but he sees the mask crack, the truth, he halts
It hurts even more, hearing him say he is at fault

Whether he feels the same, I can’t nor will I say
but I both dread and anticipate it, the day
When his body will release him from his torment
He’ll be at rest; My emotional scars no longer dormant

One day he’ll leave this world, leave me behind
and in his absence, his eternal peace I’ll find
a means to an end to deal with being alone
his endless silent suffering I could not condone

The day will come, and I know it will
I’ll find myself with an impossible hole to fill
He’ll finally rest, his skeletal tormentor will relent
My time of great sorrow will begin, but his will be at an end

Author's Note

This is another poem written in mind of Alzheimer's. Note that I have not experienced this personally, this is pure speculation. Hope you enjoy and review :)

Reviews

[Chip]

I like it, don't really like the part "this damned plague" just doesn't seem to fit. But really nice write!

[DreamWeaver 2154]

It was a spur of the moment poem :) I'll keep that in mind though :)