You are not only flesh but fervent.
You touch me without a trace of contact
just how details of the wind are not detected by eyes
but as its motion passes by;
transfusing movement into inanimate objects,
proof of existence rests assured.
At times, you reach parts of me untouched by feelings
where proper reactions cannot be resolved
so I shake.
I shake undone by fear and hope
like a branch on a tree reaching to be free.
At intermittent variables of time, I am frozen.
Stuck on a memory or moment
like a picture-frame hanging crooked on a wall.
Thumbtacks pierce crimes of sorrow to my mind.
Rumination feeds fear,
fear pinches clout from fervour.
The potential of this harm leaves me as paltry as empty pockets
with enough hurt no time in a hospital could heal.
My feathers crumble without you
tears fall as incessantly as candle grease
burns destroy galleries of memories.
If I can’t trace myself back to you
who am I?