I’ve let go.
You were never mine to want
let alone touch.
Yet those moments playing
each other with what might happen
made me feel so Alive -
only because you wanted it, too
(didn’t you?)
One-sided attempts to play on
over miles and through thin air
haunt me still.
How lucky I’ll never see you -
I’m too tall for potholes or
sidewalk cracks.
Silly stories
written to make you wet,
awkward lunches,
glances around office partitions,
coffee, and
three soft kisses -
all we were and perhaps
all you really wanted us to be.
If I had what I wanted:
to taste you,
All of you;
to hear your deepest breath and
feel your body tense.
What the hell would I have done then?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem