We exist
In the spaces between the lines
In the pages of a story
That we write at different times

We live
In the subtle phrases
In the corners of a poem
That we read in early morning

We love
In between the moments
In a way we can't quite say
That we know is far too dangerous

I love you,
but I can’t say it.
You will never know,
even if I desperately want you to.

All the things we never said,
go round and round inside my head.