I keep my distance because I long to reach out. 

You stood before me as I secretly spiraled downward

and you laughed about something or someone.

(Truth be told, I wasn’t paying much attention.)

The words that slipped past my lips

and the slow smile on my face 

felt like an anchor pulling me under water. 

I am drowning, 

I whispered in my head.

~

In the moment between 

your laughter and my drowning,

my eyes softened at the sight of you -

You carry such kindness in your broad shoulders. 

You carry much calm in your chaotic grin.

Your hair seems unusually soft and your face is shaved.

I long to put my hand on your cheek

and tell you that being at peace becomes you, 

my darling - the love who doesn’t love me. 

I put my hand in my pocket instead,

longing remains sadly in my fingertips

and in a daring heart crushed in my fist.

I know it will never be me 

but I wish you great things - 

the moment when someone else’s hand

touches your skin and you feel alive again,

when someone gives herself to you

and you bravely say, “Okay, I will feel loved again.”

My beautiful friend,

she will be a lucky girl to have you.