I miss the way the moon shone that night as
you held my heart within your palm,
watching it beat faster with each
word you whispered to my soul.
I’ve been blind for the past two months remembering
our two nights together forbidden, surrounded ,
yet so alone with each other: together yet apart.

It’s getting harder to put down the phone when
I’m one number away from yours.
I know who would answer and it wouldn’t be you.
I know she’s still there and she has every right to be
but I still cant feel guilty for the future
I have planned in my head.
For us.

And every time I hear a voice
with the same cadence yours has,
I look up expecting to see your blue eyes and wild gaze.
I thought that your voice was yours, but
it was only where you live... And
I stand out because I don’t sound like you.
I am constantly on edge because I hear
that cadence and jump every time.

I hate this, being blind to the stars
and the moon and the planes of your
cheekbones and your blue blue eyes.
I can see nothing but memories,
hear nothing but your (so far) empty promises.
I think I’m dying here
for each day you don’t contact me kills
another shred of my precious hope.

One week from now, I have more of a chance
of seeing you than I have for the past two months.
But there is no guarantee.
There never is with you and I hate it
but I can’t blame you for anything. I know this is my fault.
You initiated the first kiss, but I was the one who lifted my chin
and let your lips trip a wire of uncertainly that
goes off every time I realize …
you haven’t spoken to me in weeks.

but no matter how many times I’m let down,
I can’t stop hoping. I can’t stop loving you.