This is a blog that I have been meaning to write for a long time now. It is from the perspective of a lover of someone who is Chronically Ill. After a friend once again asked me to write this, I did my best to put myself in the shoes of another.

Lyrics are from ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay.

Whilst writing this song I have been listening to ‘Only Love’ by Ben Howard, which I feel fits the piece. It’s about seeing only love. The rest of it really doesn’t matter.

Jess xxx

Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah they were all yellow

couple rain

With a hand beneath the nape of your neck, I lay you in the dirt. Only it isn’t dirt, or so you claim. You always did have a way of viewing the world differently. You lay back and smile ‘Imagine, all it takes is a few drops of rain and it turns into paint’. You laugh, amazed. And I shake my head equally.

You always did love the night. I present to you my greatest impression of Van Gogh, ‘I often think that the night is more alive and richly colored than the day’. I await your laughter but instead you turn to me seriously. ‘Of course the night is going to be brighter. You only have dark to make a comparison to’.  

My love, is that why your dreams are vivid, so hopelessly psychedelic?

You have the darkest nights I ever did see, and I weep for the day that I lose you to them.

I came along, I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called yellow

We are as unlikely as we are different, a pairing designed by the Joker in Cupid’s absence.  I am strength and you are swan. I am weight and you are leaf. I am life and you my love, are death. Neither of us can sing, although you play a lovely piano. And somehow from our fumbling beneath the blankets and star time kisses we wrote our own version of a love song.

It was the most bittersweet love song you ever did hear.

So then I took my turn
Oh what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow


There had been many before me, fallen soldiers piled in their graves. I pitied their lack of resolve and at times I envy their wit. Sometimes it is wiser to admit defeat than to actually become it. Of course you never did keep it a secret, you couldn’t. The blue upon your white, the rasp between kisses. It was too present, and I understood from the very beginning that ours would be a relationship of three.

You introduced us slowly, shyly. You were a wounded animal, fully awaiting my sprint in the other direction. One day you spat at me. Just leave. Just be like everyone else and leave already. It was too late. I had loved you from the first time you looked my way. I fell in love with your eyes, not your disease. The first was natural, the latter took it’s time.

I remember the first evening that I first understood just how unwell you truly were. I now realised that you had hidden the truth even from yourself, head drowning beneath the sand. Your body convulsed in between retches and I promised to hurry to the hospital. You were quiet, guilty. This is normal.

And soon it was no longer your normal, but ours. My mates would nod at one another over beers, agree that I had been duped and pushed off the pier. They told me to swim before I drowned. And it was decided.

How could I tell them I jumped?

Would they listen if I told them that the freckles on your cheeks mimicked the southern cross constellations?

Your skin,

Oh yeah your skin and bones,

Turn into something beautiful,

You know, you know I love you so,

You know I love you so.

couple cherry blossoms

I know I take your breath away. But so do the stairs. The walk up the hall. The gap between here and there. Sometimes you rest on the couch, the stairs too high, the hall too far, the gap too great. But you always find the breath to kiss me.

You give me so much, and yet I can give you so little. My organs are no good to you, nor do we have matching blood types. I cannot find your cure nor can I fund it, and even so you would refuse it regardless.

Because you know as well as I do that you are enough. You are beautiful in only a way that tragedy can be. Newspapers sell not from supermodels on the front cover, but rather mangled wrecks that you cannot tear your eyes away from. Perhaps it unfair for me to compare you to a latest headline, but I know you will understand. You are the girl who people cannot tear their eyes off, although they may not even realize why.

Your white collarbones become my wishbones, and I could rest my lips there forever. I remember the first night that we made love. I was slow and you were frenzied, forever polar opposites. Nipple to mouth, hip to hip we danced a beautiful melody. My tongue hovered over each scar, and afterwards I kissed the top of your head.

Later, you cried.

I have been waiting my whole life for someone to love my scars as much as I do.

You cannot turn beautiful, for you already are. Your body will change in a way that it should not. There will likely not be a growing belly, and instead you will fade inch by inch until I am left clutching at shadows. But it doesn’t matter. Because while you are here, you are the most beautiful of them all.

And I laugh at your lack of modesty. I’m a cherry blossom. I’m not here for long, but when I am, god I look amazing!

And then we make love again.

 I swam across,

I jumped across for you,

Oh what a thing to do.

Cos you were all “Yellow”

 love skeleton

Some nights you do not shine yellow. You are white and you are grey. You are blue and you are black. You catch red in your hands and you are screaming white noise. I stalk the overpaid, demand that they try something more. More pain relief, more fluids, more scans and more surgeries. They may not rest, nor have their lunch break, nor go home to their families and forget. They do not get to return home and pretend that nothing is happening as long as you and I are not awarded the same.

I argue with them, and you exhaustedly tell me to leave it.

I scream at you, and for that I am sorry. But you don’t understand, you can’t. You don’t have as much to lose as I do.

They can’t just go home and leave you like this. No, I won’t let them, they can’t leave you.

You smile weakly. They can leave me. But you can’t.

I turn to tell you the same thing. But we both know we don’t have a choice in that.

I drew a line,

I drew a line for you,

Oh what a thing to do,

And it was all “Yellow.”

hospital love

I try to think back to a time when Oxycontin didn’t roll off my tongue. When two minutes referred to  noodles and not the perfect timing for your heatpack. A time when I still had the time to lift weights, and when I wasn’t lifting you from the bathroom floor.

I was young and it had nothing to do with chronology. I was liberated of reality and self was forefront in my mind. There was no planning the everyday, and room for spontaneity. For someone who had a lot of room, it seemed terribly empty.

And so I draw the line from before and after, Me and Us, dark and yellow. This wasn’t in my plan, but then again you weren’t in my plans either. But somehow we ended up falling in love all the same. Every breath, every movement, every kiss must be planned, debated and weighed up. What price will you pay if we make love tonight? If I take you to dinner tonight, do I take you to hospital tomorrow? They say that love is about sacrifice, but I don’t think they knew what they were talking about. Illness, that is the greatest sacrifice of all.

But love?

Loving you is the easiest thing in the world.

Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah they were all yellow

couple ground

And that is how we came to be laying in the dirt at three in the morning. You packed a picnic of the one punnet of strawberries and bottle of coke that you could carry, and from it we made a feast. You pretended to feed me and become a fantasy before at the last minute  squishing the strawberry into my cheek and pretending to run away.

Only of course, you cannot run away. And so I sling you under my arms and spin you around pretending that I cannot catch you. Soon you are breathless from your sprint, and we lay back down in the dirt.

I trace the constellations in the sky and match them to the constellations upon your own left cheek. And it is there we stay. You pick out the star for when you leave this earth. I promise to bleed myself dry for you, and you splash me with mud and I laugh at the way you crinkle your nose.

And then I take you home to bed, and love you for being yellow.


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