Maybe, if I write for long enough,
it will become beautiful. Maybe I’ll impress you,
and the words will
stain your eyes and ears
like injections of colour.
Maybe, like fragments of light,
it will refract and
split into a rainbow with
every area of contact.
Maybe if I’m with you long enough
your warmth will spread to me –
reach these cold hands that can produce
nothing spectacular so far,
just a spot of passion here and there.
Maybe those points of contact will
linger to form something more.
A friendship, a romance.
Maybe, they’ll defy the laws parallel lines
must abide by; living side-by-side
without ever touching.
Maybe I’ll write something meaningful,
and together
we’ll break the law and create
an area of contact; just for a moment,
our lines intertwining.