I love the wind
hitting my windows
because it makes me think
that he'll come falling through
on my floor
and then look up at me
sheepishly
and I'll laugh
and make him some
instant
hot-cocoa.

And I'm ashamed
because all I can feel for him
is this one feeling
that I'm not supposed to.
this one feeling
that he sees in movies too much.
this one feeling he's sick of
hearing about
in songs and movies and tv and poems
and I am too.

And when I told him
I know that I only told him
because when I said
"You won't do anything
or say anything
about this
and neither will I
because I don't want to."
I knew he would keep
the promise.

Even if,
one day
I could cross this ocean
these oceans
(I wasn't counting
in the plane
I didn't have a window seat)
he would look at me
the way
he had always seen me
feel for me
the way he always had
(maybe a little different
if I lost weight
but even then
only eye candy.)

But it confuses me
these things
he sends me
and the things
he says
sometimes
even though
I know it's just
a part of his
sky the way
people read it.

He would hate me for it.
If I tried to get into his head
see what was
inside
if anything
had anything
to do with me in there.
He would tell me
he was just a private person
that he
only liked listening
and tell me
I couldn't accept who he was.
But I would so love to know.
It's wrong
so so wrong
and I need it.

His heart
once belonged
to someone.
And it still does
in part
to that same person.
(Out of what I can make
out of the little he says)
and even if
it was someone else's
it's not mine.
it never will be.

This is the one thing
that I can not say
"Okay.
I can deal.
That's life for ya, am I right
or am I right?" to.
This is the one thing
that leaves me
sleepless
or rather,
never lets me rest my head
on my pillow.

I know he thinks
this little
of me
and it kills me
even though
I understand
and agree.
it kills me
to know
nothing and want
everything
out of
this person
this soul
whose pride
rests in his
mystery.