Touch May Not Be Necessary For Me That Warm, Skin To Skin Connection Has Never Felt As Vital As An Emotional

Close your eyes, I'm in the corner of your mind, The corner you see in your Peripheral vision but hardly look at. I'm in the shadows with a match, The flame that crackles and sizzles And sparks, burning lower Until the tiny coals go out Between my finger tips. I'm the light that shines When you can't always see.

Close your arms, I'm the warm, solid Scarred and healed Body that fits between your limbs Like the smallest Of the nesting dolls. I'm the familiar smell of Sweat and sage, unwashed And a little greasy, I'm the familiar sensation you can feel In bed when you lay awake at night, The last breath before sleep.

Don't close your heart, We've both been hurt, Dragged across the street And unknowingly scratched up By one another. I am your inner child's teddy bear, The one that's missing an eye With a bit of stuffing coming out. We are the animals we keep on pillows When we are old When we are bit more gentle, When we have the thread To sew up the torn parts. When we don't need to be Perfect anymore.

November was made for The dying, Vanity finally blown Away, exposing the Forests and meadows, Stripping them Down to their stems With no pretty little Leaf to entice anyone

Only the colder winds Shake these branches, The snapping Sticks laying helpless As they are crushed Under boots, breaking Beneath abandonment, The smell of their Decay a kind of comfort

How do I give a voice To my anger When I have banished it To the corner For whispering? Like it is the child I am ashamed of, Or that if I were to Let it speak It might scream And never stop

I've passed off so many Thoughts to you, Anger, I'm sorry For making you bear That burden When I had never given You the chance to Grow strong So you might know how To stand by me

And I'm sorry, I never Trusted you Because you hurt So often in the past, I chose serenity, I needed it But I felt you, Simmering inside me Squashed down when All you wanted Was just to be heard

It's in the way you tuck your hair Behind your ear In the way you speak your words Soft and clear In how you make yourself feel close Like you are here The way you navigate the world And hold your fears

It's in the way you tilt your head In photographs The way you light up when you're glad Your sneaky laugh It's how you say what's in your heart And don't hold back How you are strong and hold your own But don't attack

It's in the way your forge your path No compromise When you let me walk with you I get butterflies I love to see which way you go Every surprise Love is in the way you dream Watching the skies

Love is how you've looked at me With kindest eyes Love is when you hold my hand And don't patronize How you've been vulnerable with me Not afraid to cry It's how we let each other breathe Without cutting ties

Does anyone else Count syllables on fingers While writing haiku?

She used to look out the window With eyes darting around Like the fluttering of birds Was the greatest joy she found And marvel at the rustling leaves Chirping and chittering sounds Enthralled by creatures great and Small that roam upon the ground

Hardly would she ever venture Out into that very wild land So safe behind that pane of glass So safe to let her world expand Sometimes we would sit by the door Glory under that sun so grand She lived a quietly sheltered life It was a choice I understand

I would tilt the earth For snow drops and witch hazel For rare hints of color Bright against a white landscape

I would give up leaves For bare frosted branches I would banish the sun To see night in the afternoon

I would never swim again To skate across a frozen pond I would tear out July and August To have a calendar of Decembers

Give me a window that speaks That howls the names of blizzards I would tilt the earth To see cardinals shine in snow

I was a child Unsure what it meant To be grown

I tried to learn The way Ducklings learn To swim

But I was Not quite a duck

It did not come Instinctively

I came into Myself differently Swimming Alternatively

I don't think I was meant for Predestined plumage

In the empty orchard Among the crisp apples And softer pears, Brown and green, The apples red and yellow, Losing their grip On their branches In the hour before dark Where no bonfires burn A quiet that is alone, mine

The air is full of Ragweed and dying grass, The sweet scent of Fallen fruits sinking Into the bed of the earth, Feasts for wriggling worms Before the frost comes Early in the morning, I am here with the last Of the colors of trees

Sheep getting sleepy, Too sleepy to count them Their sounds replaced by The last croaking frogs, The lingering buzzing of Wings on insects, Before they hibernate In frozen lakes Before the sun falls Further behind the barn

The birds have flown South with our love Our passion fruit Fallen from trees Like the autumn leaves

And here we lay in The dark afternoon You are too angry And I am too tired To care that we expired

We turned back clocks Gaining an hour to Linger inside our Wind up toy romance Spinning its last dance