She was silky yet silent, bold yet repressed
Her face was drawn up in perplexion, as she
Turned the thing through her hand.
It was red and soft, shy and quiet as she
Rolled it through her fingers and quietly
Tucked it away into her pocket.
All I could do was watch as she moved
And took it with her. I keep around her
As much as I can, wondering if maybe someday
I might gain the nerve to demand it back.
For now though, it sits there amidst lint
Humble against debris in the blackness
Of that pocket, longing to yet again be
She did not reject it, she did not embrace it
She merely wanted to own it in an offhanded way.
It needs light and warmth to thrive, yet
She only sometimes remembers it's even there.
But those days when she retrieves it,
Even for just a moment are bliss.
I see the look in her eyes as she holds it
And I feel whole again. She takes my hands
Into hers and kisses me deeply and in that
Split second it's worth all the darkness
And the loneliness and the longing.
But then, she thrusts it back into hiding,
And I quietly pine for the next time that
I can have the privilege of feeling her touch
Of taking my own hands across her skin
Of holding her and hearing her sweet voice
Because it's all that matters.