In the early hours,
As most should be sleeping,
I sit in our bedroom window and perform a ritual.
Smoking a cigarette, wrapped tightly in a blanket,
I watch.
I watch you toss and turn, breathing heavily, in and out.
I imagine your dreams, your tremors.
I'm careful not to wake you.
Sometimes I walk over to you and touch your hair,
And pray that it is not me that keeps you here in this prison.
The anxiousness shows, reflected even as you sleep,
Worries too heavy for you to even confess to me.
You sleep on, albeit fitfully,
Not aware of my nightly ritual of watching you.
Careful not to disturb...
While you try with all your subconscious might,
To dream away losing me,
To dream away the certainty of my death.
Poem About Dissociative Identity Disorder
My Ritual
Published by Family Friend Poems June 2011 with permission of the Author.
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