the frozen ground under my feet
has more give than your rigid spine,
and i wish i didnt know how stiff your
upper lip was, how you can freeze
your skin into a mask, refuting the gentle,
slow smile i adore, turning it into something
harsh and lined with anger, you can shift me
towards despair with the slightest twist of your
wrist, gone from guiding me by your side to
wrestling me in place, jerking me along,
poor thing, my skin burned from your fierce grip,
how i limp on bare feet in the wake of your grief.
i shelter under the memory of your hands slipping
over and around my skin, imprinting my shape
into your palms, i shelter under the swing of your shoulders
when you would lift your hand to my neck and kiss my jaw.
you will return soon.