I wrap my robe around me
Not the new soft warm blue one.
The old white one.
Though there is chill in the night air
I couldn’t put on
The warm blue one.

It almost hurts to look at it.
To feel in its soft fabric
The love I craved
But was denied.

Why could you give me that?
But not the words
To bring us closer?
The simple words
Were all I asked.

I know the winters chill
Would blow right through
The soft blue robe
There is an emptiness inside
That can’t be filled
Except in my dreams.

I don’t dream anymore.

By Deborah E. Dayen