There's no such thing as a reason

Her toes were like
little pink sea shells
that she hides
inside her thick
woolly socks
like she's embarrassed
by the fact
that she likes pink.

Her hands
can hold the world
together;
can cradle you close
to her breast
like a new mother;
can command your
banishment with a
flick of her wrist;
can hold you down
and can let you go.

Her voice held
so much authority
so much seduction
and so much power
that when she spoke
even in hushed tones,
you'd think
they were your own -
your own ideas
and your own volition.

And you wonder
why you can't
let her go.