Burnt with impossibilities.
Kindled with hope.
Alight on sight.
Is that a new coat?
Edging with heat all through my legs.
A response, your voice, a conversation he begs.
Physically unable to understand the reasons for his reactions.
A week and a million hopeful desires later in a room all alone, he’d write in his diary “She wasn’t worth it”
© G.P Williamson 2017