Pillows

Why didn't you tell me,
that you could not cook a meal,
put away your clothes in the wardrobe,
or put yourself to bed
without a sigh.
You could have told me that
listening to music made you
so exhausted that tears
renegade of any encouragement
you had ever felt

You didn’t tell me
that going upstairs and sitting
on the loo took
all your energy and
cause you pain,
your body trembled and
where your piss and
your genitals once embellish
your life were hurting you
and bringing
tear of sorrow and defiance.

You could have told me
that the  winter was your spring
since you collected icicles,
you could have told me
that nothing was familiar,
the coffee, the sugar bowl
the TV remote control
or the pillow coiling around
your thighs.