Please forgive me, for my hands won’t stop shaking.
You and I:
Parallel lines holding on to the notion that maybe one day
We’ll intersect, in more ways than one.
My breath catches at the thought of your fingertips
Slipping and sloping down my spine.
I can’t fall asleep anymore without you on my mind,
Conjuring images of your
Phantom arms wrapped around my waist
And the autumn breeze of an open window washing over me.
They say that this cannot be love,
But god, I’m not so sure.

Your mother doesn’t know that I exist.
I thank her every morning for you,
Over my lukewarm cup of cheap coffee.
She is the only person who will ever love you more than I.
You look at me like I am made of flowers
Whose petals have colours you’ve never been able to comprehend.
I hope they make a little more sense now.

The first wrinkles on my face will be crow’s feet,
Like my mother’s,
Like my grandmother’s.
We’ve all fallen a little too hard
And smiled a little too much.
I’ll cherish them just the same.

They never taught us how to write poems without the fuel of heartache.
I’ll never learn, anyhow.