He leaned in like a young brother
Quick
Without malice
Confident of what he needed from me
Conveying inability to do for himself what he could use me for;
To rub against my bare arm
Horses push;
Head butting their messages of discontent.
This was different
Hold still, there’s something in my eye
Do you see it?
Let me rub again, be my hands, help me get it out
Can you help me?
No comments:
Post a Comment