I.
Silent hearts skip love,
going straight for the hopeless
kind of devotion
that’s written across their big,
puppy love dog eyes, waiting.

II.
Waiting is what one
does, right? You wait for the moment
to dive into
infatuation and hope
you survive desire, the fall.

III.
Falling was not apart
of the plan. I wanted
a distraction, a
fantasy. You weren’t suppose
to become a secret.

IV.
Secret longings, you
evoked stirrings so powerful,
the moon and stars
were afraid to touch our light.
I’m afraid that I’m burning.

V.
Burning through late night
talks, my fingertips itching
to touch you instead
of keypads and letters and
fogged up phone screens. I want you.

VI.
You can deny hours
of exchanging lines of
lives, laughs and questions
meaning, but can you deny
them the build up of feelings?

VII.
Feelings? Well I feel
my pulse dance when you touch my
shoulder or give me
a hug. Silent hearts skip love
though. It’s better to pretend.

VIII.

It never happened. The fingerprints were dusted
and we didn’t match.