Voilet hour

I felt you last night.
I felt your skin.
I felt your hair.
The follicles brushed against mine like a brush, calming me like a mother brushes a daughters hair to soothe her pain.
You do not know how this has affected me.
I am no longer
silent.





I need that again, please,
but I know I won't receive it--I think.
You seemed to like it too.
A lot more than I thought you would.
Yet I was never your love through the process.