I’m still numb, reaching for words
I’m mad at myself for not talking to him more
Mad at him for not talking to me more
Mad at him for just giving up
And mad at the world for how helpless it all makes me feel
My pride in you and your hard work eclipsed by one phone call
A flower-smelling championship, forgotten
But there was a reason the first thing I did when I heard those words was reach for you
It is because you are the one I reach for
The one I need, the object of all those clichés about love
You do, in fact, complete me
And if I had the words right now I could frame that in some metaphor
Telling you about the way we fit together but the words are not there
But the feelings of companionship and need and desire burn
A compelling to hold you close and to never let you go
An eruption of feeling in the mere nearness to you
And your scent and the way my arms wrap around your body
An animal requirement to have that closeness every day,
You in my arms fragile yet strong and my arms strong yet grasping
A desire to crush you with my overwhelming tide of emotions
But I hold you clumsily – a child presenting a feather or a bird’s egg.
As I reach for you, first, every day. Not just in the ill light.
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