I want to love you,
but I'm note sure I know how.
I don't know how to take your hand
without wishing it were smaller and thinner,
without wishing it were softer and darker,
without wishing it were the hand
my pencil mimicked on paper
while drawing someone
I wished you were.
I don't know how to kiss your lips
without wishing they had braces behind them,
without wishing they were smoother,
without wishing they would smile
against my cheek and take
my breath away so
I don't know how to say, "Goodbye,"
without wishing I were holding her inside my arms,
without wishing she were curled against me,
without wishing her smile was pressed
against my chest, and I were
only telling her in the