The Man Next To Me

This week's prompt for RemembeRed asked us to write about a time that rhythm, or a lack thereof, played a role in your life. And don’t use the word “rhythm.” I'm not really a poet but I like to give it a shot once in a while. Concrit welcomed.



The man next to me is strong, virile and mine,

In his slumber he breathes in and out, slow and loud

I bind my ears with my own hands to silence the sound

But he is next to me, strong, virile and mine.





The man next to me is tall, dark and handsome

He sleeps so deeply he knows nothing of me

Head covered by plush pillows I cannot see

But he is next to me tall, dark and handsome.





The man next to me labors hard to provide

His eyes close at the door of day’s end

Mouth opens and out comes an ear shattering wind

But the man next to me labors hard to provide.





The man next to me is friend, lover and spouse

But tonight I’ve rolled him over, to the door and out of the house.