Him.

I wish I could say how I really feel, what I feel at night, when the rest sleep and I come alive. I look to the moon and sigh: I wish I could love you again, like we used to, when we shared that sunbeam on the velvet piano chair in Maine and laughed about how funny it would be if we could be friends with the Eagles, how hilarious it would all be --- up high in the dead tree branches making fun of the Ospreys with them over a cup of tea, lounging in the nest. I always promise myself I'll speak to you in the morning, open my mouth and cry out an embrace, but a fear takes over that I cannot face.