Oh, catch my breath

At first, I was relieved -
you hadn't had enough of me:
now I worry the room in your mind
where I live
is made of straw,

for you
who I trusted in my unseen skin
gave me nothing
but the silence
as of indrawn breath
in which I feared
we would never touch again,

and when gave up waiting,
pleaded an answer
so I could stop the hope
that I was wrong,
turn my back on my love of your talk:
Sorry, you said:
Things are a bit tricky, here.

I had to ring, wring out of you the reason:
heavy letters demanding payment weeks ago,
the threat
which made you scared to be alone
in. The house you thought your own
to decorate
become a shell
with phone wire
live fuse to dynamite.

Only then
you explained why you didn't tell me:
you'd drawn in in on yourself, family.
and I am outside, cold.
But, if I take a huff,
it will be an ill wind, leaving my heart homeless,
dreaming of a warm room of straw.

I want to hold you.

Like me you
never open brown envelopes,
in vain belief what's inside will undevelop;
but I would never throw away a plate
just because it was dirty. You said, rueful,
you were a waster, but
I don't want to let this drop,
what we had break.

Make me catch my breath,
trust me,
share. I care.