A healing touch is what I need.
A caring glance, an honest deed.
Your brilliance is without compare,
but a brightness of the coldest breed.
As a moth to a fire, I was drawn
to the magic of your dance and song.
Expecting to get burned, instead I found
a cold, quiet, indifferent jawn.
Bitten by frost, shriveled in a shell,
afraid to peek, or seek, or quell
the fear of never finding love,
giving up and settling in this hell.
But a healing touch could make me whole,
put me back in a husband’s role.
Though I may never love like that again,
I’ll love and live like a man once more.