If you were mine.

Suppose I could reach out

and you were there.

I would wrap my arms around you

leaning my head against your chest and fighting the force

that threatens to pluck you back

into the darkness.

Away, far away from me.

Out of reach of my fingertips

that want to brush against the smile

from which I cannot steal kisses

because they are not mine to take.

Suppose I could take the hands of time in mine

and pull them back to that day

when I could have made you mine.

What would I have changed?

My mind wanders back

to that day on your father’s boat

The afternoon sunshine leaving trails of gold

On the water’s surface

the wind stinging my skin

my hair swirling around my shoulders in a cloud of dark perfume.

I remember the way your arm felt

as you wrapped it around my waist

and tried to steady me

while the boat rocked beneath us.

I could feel the warmth of your skin

through the cotton of my blouse,

and I froze

poised between shrinking from your warmth

and basking in its glow.

It was like trying to catch a butterfly

reaching with splayed fingers

to touch silken wings

yet fearful that drawing too near

would force it to flee.

So I did nothing,

and now I am left wondering

with only the memory of your arm’s warmth

penetrating my skin

and the smell of your cologne that enveloped us

like a bewitching elixir.