Your letter reads like the soft, smooth palm
of a beautiful woman accepting my hand,
like her sweet lips gently caressing my brow.
Words from your heart flow outward to me
as the whispers of a fairy to a little boy.
I would not hurt you for all the world
yet every word I write is as an arrow to your heart.
Knowing this, you’d think I’d stop.But I seem unable to release the bow.
You said, "No we didn’t have one of those,"
normal relationships so easily forgotten,
talked out, glossed over and explained.
We cannot be explained, even to ourselves.
You listened to me when no one else would.
I spoke words to you no one else could.No one else ever saw what I saw.
I saw more than even you knew.
No. We didn’t have one of those.