I had been subduing
That
Thing
In me
That is beauty
Your touch
Enflamed:
Passion and caring.

And I am sad to lose that.

It is not cute,
It is gut-wrenching and sore heavy
That I have found you.
And you need to be elsewhere
In this time and place
And I am impatient knowing
What I want and not if
It can occur even in time.

“You’re a beauty tucked away in a box”
And the tears fall
On words silently
NO, no, I am pain and sorrow.

I miss my brother.
When I killed him,
His eyes were large
And soulful pleading.

Kill. It is
The denotative sense
Of the word that haunts me
To no end.

I miss the body
In the house.
The one I would talk to.
The one that did not listen.
The one I gave away thinking
I would find one who could.