Indirect

When two towels went to one, I can't exactly say.
Or the precise moment that finally washing his scent
out of that shirt suddenly became okay.
Be direct.
He said this in the beginning.
When it was still open to interpretation.
Now though, the silence is slamming all the doors closed.
Hardening hearts and stiffening spines.
Etching lines into faces.
And then nothing.
Anergy.
Pavlov's dogs no longer expecting to be fed.