It’s midnight, and I know you’re not alone. Someone is touching you, stroking your cheek. You lean into his hand, and with a moan, You say three words I’ll never hear you speak. And what his lips will give then is a kiss My lips have only dreamed of giving to you; And what your eyes will say, he will not miss, For his eyes listen as they see right through you While mine are here, looking at what will be And choking on it, like a broken pill: A door that swings shut between you and me So it can open up to him at will, As you do now, when through that door you go To share a room that I will never know.
Copyright 2011 Matthew J Wells