My Lover's Arms

My lover's arms,

strong and tan,

wrap around my body,

drawing me closer,

dragging me into him.

In the darkened room,

the television blares,

pictures one right after another

flying by, the volume much higher

than it needs to be.

But he cannot hear the words,

not after that concert so long ago,

where he went with ears unprotected,

and a ringing followed after for days,

taking his hearing with it when it left.

Yet I don't mind the sound.

The subtitles roll by,

and he reads them

as I lie within his arms,

taking comfort in the knowledge that he is mine.

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