右边的人诗歌_右边的人郑愁予

Right Side People by Jemar Brown

Her nights were always in the right room, her body always folded into the left side of her sleeping bag. When she finally slept, I'd sit across from her on the far right of the bed and watch the shadows fall like rain on the windowpane. The world seemed to slow down when my eyes closed, a slow drawl that seemed to carry the weight of our days before we finally met each other.

As the nights wore thin and dark, I thought it might be best to try and sleep in the left room, where all the secrets were hidden and the memories written on the pages like fragments of an old book. When the last wake up happened, I could still feel her breath on my belly and hear the faint sound of her laughter, a reminder that we'd always been there for each other.

And so we moved forward with the slow steps of a woman moving into another room, her voice soft and steady, her eyes wide with tears as she shared stories of their lives before they met us all in this room together. It wasn't just about our physical bodies; it was also about the little things that matter most—like how we rested each other on each side, how the quiet moments brought us closer than any words might have ever seemed.

As nights grew longer and darkened, I felt like a shadow always in front of me, trying to follow her movements as though she were the only one moving. But in that moment, I noticed something that had always been so hard to see—she was still there, even if she wasn't with us anymore. Her laughter echoed through the room, and I knew it wouldn't be easy to say goodbye, but I couldn't miss her either.

And then we all began to fall asleep together on the far right of the bed, their voices blending into one another as though they were two people living in the same room for the last time. It was a strange, almost surreal moment when everything seemed to stop and only the silence continued forever. But I knew that we'd never be truly apart anymore, no matter how slow or quick our steps might seem to each other.