I was thinking of abandon: no will, no want, no restraint; love loose and alive.

Peter Bruun

Pressed uncomfortably to delve into her emotions, Leigh wondered if she’d ever be able to discuss aloud her feelings about him and their complex relationship. A lifetime of Yankee stoicism screamed no, but he moved her to push back against instinct and try. Writing was easy; her heart became transparent when she wrote, he once said. But deep conversation? That was foreign; painful. After a particularly hard moment, he broaching a challenging subject, she pained by her continued silence, she resorted to something she’d never tried before: poetry. Cloaked in the familiarity of metaphor, she did her best to convey how much she longed to match his emotional fluency. She hoped she would, in time. She hoped he’d wait.