Journey

I was borne from your pain.

You gave me life.

It hurt you to bear me,

but I replaced the sting with

cool, tender caresses.

Your cheek, red-hot with fear

or maybe sadness, or hurt,

was my playground, school,

work and sickbed.

When I kissed your reddened lips

you let me die, softly, slowly.

Lovely.

Who knew salt and water

could feel so much?