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.

I would say the morning dawns chill but it is not yet dawn when I arise to let the dogs out. I snuggled deep into the cool summer linens, careful not to move to far away from the warm cocoon of sleep. Slow sluggish thoughts form and the ease in which I awoke fades into a tenseness about the neck. I stop vague, pensive thoughts with another of warm winter flannels; moose and trees, birds in flight. The ones I bought when daddy was down last November helping with the house. I smile. And think of yesterday, the closing on the house, the conversation that ensued. I was excited about my things, you were excited about yours. We are excited for each other and listened intent. I love the way you won’t let me back away even from the gentle need of someone to listen, to share, to communicate and be understood. My needs are simple..

Pressure in the chest.
It is the soul that speaks in soft
Tongues of birds in flight
Pressure in awe of life.

It is a brave new day
Of things that cross my path
And come my way
Yet still is the wrath
That fades to gray.

Never ending is my hope
And passion brought forth.

Blush, blush at the intimacy of it,
How it shines in my eyes,
Trembles in my voice soft
With childish gaiety and fervor.

It’s you she called to share her news.
You own her, you know it,
I hope it pleases you as much as she.
It is killing her not to touch you.

He owns her and eventually he must decide what to do with her.