metonymy4u

            The speaker, her brother

I watched her eyes filled with such love for him that
in that moment I knew only the death placed
upon my beginning: always longing
for such possibilities as I could never have.

Anger is when seeing is incomplete. Like a foot
in the night that we encounter and realize
too quickly only as our own. There

are times when you must strike out and return
to nothing. To an empty hut that your beloved
never knew, or left after a night
of sweetness.

When poise is just a dress of compromise
with dreams that never were, and

retires a compliment of hope that misses its own demise.

The heart is easily moved on its own.
And too much is left out, when we tell

our stories.