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til death do us part

by Svea Bertilius


Part 1


I watch her when she drinks her morning coffee. 

A tiny bit of cream, one spoon of sugar. She doesn’t like it when her coffee is too strong. 

I used to make her coffee for her. Now she won’t let me.


I watch her as she plays chess against one of the staff. 

Knight to c3. I know all of her moves.

I used to play chess with her. Now she won’t let me.


I watch her take her afternoon walk.

We didn’t live here when we used to go for our afternoon walks. 

I never know where she’s going. She won’t let me come with her.


She doesn’t like to talk to me anymore. Even though she used to stay up all night just to listen to my stories.

When I get the chance to tell her about the girl I met when I was young, I will tell her all the stories of how she spilled soda on her shirt so I gave her mine. I will tell her about the time we went on a date at an Italian restaurant, and on our walk home it started pouring down rain so we became drenched. I want to explain to her that she hadn’t brought any money, and I had just spent everything I had on the food, and couldn’t afford a cab, so we had to run home in the rain. 


I want to tell her how she is my reason to stay alive, and without her I would not be able to live anymore, but she won’t talk to me, because she doesn’t remember my face. 


A promise to stay together through health and sickness, til death do us part. But we are apart, and none of us are dead. 

She doesn’t remember the man she made those vows to. The sickness took it all away, wiped her mind with a cloth until everything was a blur. 


Life is not easy to live, when the love of your life thinks you’re a stranger. Sometimes I wonder if she’s still in there. But I think not. The woman I loved died years ago. I don’t know what is left, or what I’m still doing here. Perhaps it’s the hope that maybe, just maybe, she will remember me again. And we can really be together again, til death do us part. 




Part 2


I met girl with good looks,

I fell in love with her just like in the books.


I fell on one knee after only a year,

and I’ve never felt such fear.


A round belly in the sunlight,

I’ve never seen a baby boy smile so bright.


The boy grow tall and handsome,

my wife and I, happier than some. 


A few forgotten things,

but she always remembered our rings.


But the rings were soon forgotten too, 

as was, how to tie her shoe.


No, life is not easy for a man who used to walk through life with grace,

when his wife 

no longer remembered his face.


 

Svea is a 15 year old girl, whose dream job has always been to be an author. She writes both short stories, poetry and even longer unpublished novels. Svea loves to write tragic and sad pieces, but reads everything between fantasy and cheesy romace books. She is inspired by music, Pinterest, and her own experiences.

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