My soul in a poem

Sarah had to do a paper on this poem, and she told me to read it. Once I had, I felt as though I had transported into the future, wrote it and then returned to my present self. I shall share it with you now.

You Have a Body I Can Touch

I love birds too but I can't hold them and

our children have been taken by their wings.

Your breath is the wind I wake to. You turn

on the fan when it's hot and squeeze lemon

into cups in the morning. When I think

your hair is just right you get it cut and 

get annoyed at my diagnoses of

the world, ask me why I only see the

bad, but this is a love poem and I 

think you should know that when I cry it's 

for your own good and mine. My rage is what 

keeps me here in the shade of your love. Your

refusal to engage in my rant is

as comforting as your Yorkshire pudding

and you are reliable as barbecue

sauce. You make things, I define them. You are

the Good Guy and your words are loaves of

bread fresh out the oven when bread is what 

I need you more than wine. Don't thank me when I 

kiss you. It has taken thirty years to

write this.

-Janet Vickers

FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!!!!