we feel it in our fingertips
the energy, our hair feels
heavy and our breath needs
control and cry: not the deep
wailing but incurable sadness
of kept tears waiting to fall
for the man we like - a hug
will be enough - for the man
we love - a hug feels like sand
wet and heavy - everything
visible, every wrinkle, every
blemish. there is a need to
hit, to throw, to just sit with
out movement. to stop time
and ask it forgiveness in
understanding
us on not ever accepting
why
a blue: why not a brown will do
