snowing

My heart —

it closed 

back on skis again 

ever sad and ever lonely 

I held my father's hand each time that he cried

As a child, sick 

Lying on my side on the brown couch in the basement 

He brought me peach fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, gently stirred

He brought me orange juice diluted with water 

He'd bring me whole wheat toast, pat of butter in the center 

I see how deeply I have been loved even as I've felt so unloved 

I see how unloved I was even as I've been told I'm so loved 

I don't know if I can bring myself to care any more. I'm so tired of feeling hurt. 

I'm sorry for equivocating. The cigarette poem was about exactly what you thought. 

For a while I fancied myself far braver than I actually was. 

I'm a more honest person now. I've suffered for it. 

I look skyward into big, wet flakes 

The fencerail sparkles

Small crystals cling to the tiny blond hairs on my cheeks 

He looks like you and I can't get it out of my head —

How much I wanted you