You ask his name,
because you can see it written on my lips.

His light fills cracks and corners,
Banishing darkness that lurks in between.

Whispers of hope for this to blossom with time.

He's every other heartbeat.

It's written on my lips.

But his name is mine to keep.

Don't worry,
You've never heard of him.

If I take each breathless verse he wrote and put it in my pocket,
Maybe then I can tuck it away,
and keep that part of him close to me.

If arms could wrap around me, blanketing me in warm comfort,
Maybe then I'd get swept away in his desire to have me.

If I could just peek within the corners of his mind,
Maybe then I wouldn't be so afraid to fall.

If I could get past the maybe that tends to linger on my lips,
Maybe then my heart will heal.

If fingertips could gently touch,
And lips could softly meet,
Maybe then stars would collide and I may not drown.