I need to howl. Like a lonely dog. Like a wolf looking for her pack.
I’m sitting outside, it is cold, it is breezy. Some of my fingers have turned white, bloodless, from the lack of circulation.
I don’t want to go inside.
I tilt my head to the sky. The black, moonless sky. There are only two stars strong enough, bright enough, to shimmer in the black.
Head back, looking up, throat exposed stretched grasping I feel the need to howl. To howl loud and long. Howl for the pain and the frustration.
I can not. I have neighbours who would not understand, would not appreciate my song of loss.
I bottle it in, again, still, until.