Old, wrinkled, broken he lies,
Screaming for me to come to his side;
His decay filling the house with stink,
Rotting flesh, wounds scabbed and dried.
Ugly the more, because beautiful once,
The hideous creatures gives me no peace;
The click-clack of his rheumy joints,
A constant background score of unease.
Starved, unfed, uncared, still living,
Whining of a love given no more;
Reminding me of shared happiness,
Of how I once pampered and adored.
His shrill cries pursue my daily chores,
His hisses permeate my nightly rest;
His desperate, unyielding will to survive,
Daily hammers at the walls of my breast.
In the attic of my mind he continues to lie,
This dream that simply refuses to die.
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