For Years, Now
by Aimée Primeaux
For years, I’ve worn you like a dim tattoo,
Some ink from long ago inside me now,
A tree on skin, lines curved and faded blue.
A reminder, a talisman, a vow.
You came into my life when I was young.
I was small then, so I was swept away,
Pulled out with the tide, untethered, undone.
You held me closely, drifting through the fray.
I cried because I knew it was the end.
You cried; our kids now from a broken home.
My heart torn out, I turned away in love.
For to love you was to leave you alone.
My joy, my peace, is a tree in the tide,
A tall mark on the horizon, my guide.
Some ink from long ago inside me now,
A tree on skin, lines curved and faded blue.
A reminder, a talisman, a vow.
You came into my life when I was young.
I was small then, so I was swept away,
Pulled out with the tide, untethered, undone.
You held me closely, drifting through the fray.
I cried because I knew it was the end.
You cried; our kids now from a broken home.
My heart torn out, I turned away in love.
For to love you was to leave you alone.
My joy, my peace, is a tree in the tide,
A tall mark on the horizon, my guide.
Aimée Primeaux has always been a poet in private, writing as a way to express and process, but rarely sharing her work with the world. Now, in middle age, she has enjoyed bringing her poems out of the shadows. Her work often focuses on loss, motherhood, and the tragic beauty of change. In addition to writing, she is a sailor, gardener, and mother of two. She has degrees in literature, history, and library/information science and works for the US government.