I want, to put my hand, on your shoulder, as you cry over the kitchen sink.
I want to feel your body tremble, heave, as your icy cheek touches my wrist.
But I don't.
I watch you stiffen up, wipe your eyes on your sleeve, as you wash the cold white dishes, one after the other.

I want, to slide my hand, into your hand, and pull you away from the water.
I want to hear you laugh- that sonorous sound- as you accidentally spill beer on my bare feet.
But I don't.
I watch you walk into the sea, watch your back, your back, your back, until you are swallowed whole and you disappear.

I want so much, to hold your heart, in my hands.
I want to hold it against my chest, like a possessive child, and keep it warm and safe.
But I don't.
(The expression on your face is always the same. It is unbearable.)