When, in time, it becomes too much,
I may return here. Face to face
with she that once sought to know me.
The hour closes. We're set to turn
in opposite ways, but our paths have met,
and now we face. I clasp her forearms
lightly with my numbed fingertips, as if
her radiant warmth could bring life to them.
The background is gone. Faded from light
as I stare at her, and she straight back.
I've hidden this longing deep with my soul—
that I might catch her and share the world,
just her and I, just here and now,
just in this departed moment of time.
It’s true—she’ll return to her familiar embrace
and I, too, have someone waiting for me—
but at a separate time, it would have been her.
It should have been her, and right now, it’s her.
She closes her eyes, her hands slither to mine,
and I draw closer. My organs are churning—
I have so desperately desired this kiss—
but I cannot. She knows it, too,
and swiftly moves away towards her rightful place.
Our hands still locked, our arms outstretched,
I find her again over my shoulder.
Her eyes are lachrymose—as if she has never
been contorted by such strong confines.
We’re pulled two ways. Gradually, our fingers slide
apart and collapse like a displaced avalanche.