Not Ready

How do you touch her?
Doesn't matter, she touches you.

Her history, to me, not important.
Holiday issues, hers, not yours or ours.
Boxes are baggage, many ways.
A garage full of weight.

Moving on, you, not me.
Not ready.

Heartache is a purple bracelet.
Firmly wrapped around my heart.
A ruby red slipper, never worn.
A lady bug landing on my sleeve.

Not ready.

Painted eggs.
A tradition, troubled now.
Easter colors faded but vibrant in my mind.

Not ready.

Nap talks after school.
Taco Bell lunches.
Special times, 
Still longed for.

Not ready.

-Undated, circa 2005