love between us is quietly there,
in subtext and allusions.
*** is hidden by euphemisms
and ambiguity.
that is all we'll ever have:
unspoken chemistry.

glances, accidental touches,
late night conversations.
passion sparkles slightly
in the darkness, in goodbyes and good mornings,
in the way my name sounds
from your lips, the unexpressed desires.

invisible to the inexperienced eye, some might argue
it's not there.

but to those familiar with it --
the scholars, the romantics --
it is inevitable, invariable.

we are quiet desolation. we are close, forever closer.
most of all without touching;
most of all between breaths
and heartbeats,
in thoughts of each other's arms,
and in separate beds.

until the falling stars run out
i will be wishing just for you*

(perhaps i should've told you)

you say you miss me
like it's a chore.

i think i'm bleeding.

you still won't stay up
into the late hours of the night
to talk to me.

i don't know why i thought it'd be
different
this time.

*******.
i missed you.
but *******.

i could never be with you
nothing about you is
quite right
your flaws aren't lovable
but it's nice to think
that they could be
that i could
be with you
if they were.

i kiss you like you'll leave me,
every time like it's the last time.
you stay with me;
and always spell
"I love you"
with "goodbye".

it would be a
privilege
to drown
with you.

i saw a quote the other day
about emptiness
and how no amount of love
on this planet
can fill it
when it's sincere
and i couldn't help but think
of myself
as a black hole
gaping and bare
stealing kisses in the dark
and words out of the mouths
of babes
just for the thrill
just for the reassurance
that i am desirable
but nothing more

because he took
the rest of my capabilities
with him.