there it was again
a washed-up drought
from the panic of a heartless core—
not a heartless man,
but the foundation within him,
brittle to the bore.

without two bare hands to hold
the woman who poured into,
but also scolded him
for the absence of an opening
to hear her softly,
to brush her hair behind her ears,
and whisper—
“i am here.”

there it was again,
her yearning from years
of tether and pull,
running toward her spirit
with vision, yet blurred eyes.

a power and a strength
she held so close
that she nearly tumbled each time
it wasn’t reciprocated.
oceans roared inside of her—
she drew unseen pain from within,
because He hasn’t provided him.

He hasn’t made that day clear.
and she yearns
for support,
for a deep, tender hug,
for a long release,
and a whisper…
“i am here.”

and there,
between the want of being held
and the echo of being unseen,
she awakes—
tuned to the quiet vibration
that it is already hers.