i keep thinking that
if things were different,
we would still be in love.
we’d have moved to the city by now
and settled into that loft.
the one with the terrace for my plants
and the window nook
for all of your books.
though it was 12 minutes
from the train and
6 blocks to the bus,
you said it was better that way;
less noise,
more walking,
and more talking.
i remember the best part
was the view.
transparent glass
stretched to either side,
four walls to make up the bones.
our bodies in the center
to make it a home.
our fingers interlocked
and my head to your chest.
nestled in linen sheets,
we watch the sky fall
as we drift off to sleep.

i keep dreaming,
dreaming,
dream
           i
            n
              g  

of the sunsets we’ll never see,
the promises we didn’t keep,
and the lovers we’ll never be