
your head rests on my shoulder black strands hide your face I want to see you we touch sometimes knock into each other as we stroll side by side I want to hold you cold air snaps at my eyes, claws at my mouth my words don't form as another moment slips by I want to reach you I hide squirreled away in my deepest recesses I hold but at the wrong times I talk but don't really say anything I see but don't act I believe I am more than I am right now I am comfortable around everyone but with you, my thoughts turn on each other I'm terrified of being hurt again you should get to see all of me you deserve my honesty you can't see me you can't hold me you can't reach me because I was never really here I am now. I pray you still are
This piece was written in March 2018. Lot’s Wife accepted it as a piece for their print edition – Issue 4, 2018.