Your long fingers
On my face, and inside.
Our slow stares
And low sighs.
Every time we whispered
In the middle of the night,
I felt a closeness with you,
A musing energy in my life.

And I’m scared that
I’m losing this feeling,
And there’s the fear of what I know—
That I must forget it.

Instead, it is your long face
And the burn
Of your harsh glare, I feel
Your low blows, and hear
Your combative voice.
What once was growing
Stifles within me, and I am
Once again, dispirited and cold.