There is something you cannot know
for I have not opened my heart;
something you need to know
though I have not spoken.

There is something painful hidden
under the laughter,
a necessary counter-point,
to make this something bearable.

I want to say
touch me.
I feel winds circle.
Though windows and doors are locked;
cold seeps under the sills.

I try to say
touch me.
The barren room, cavernous,
without chairs or soft cushions;
even walls repulse warmth.

I cannot say
touch me.
Where did the dancing go?
Weight of an arm on my shoulders,
pressure of fingers on my palm.

It is so lonely in this empty house.
Can you hear
if I say
touch me?

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