I do not believe my love is pretty
Or that it belongs among your soul.
It is pathetically afraid of catching glances.
And it clings to distance with a passion.
It is alive but it dances among shadows.
It curls under your hands
And races backwards
Hiccupping into the dark.
I never claimed to love
Before any of my heartbreaks.
So you kiss my lovely friend
Unaware that I have fallen.