I can’t say what I need to.
Rather, I won’t. I don’t.
Caught between what was and what is,
Between happiness and love.
Not caught at all, actually,
Stuck. In pages I haven’t yet read, scenes I haven’t yet seen.

“I need you. I want you. I love you.”
Would you care? You don’t have to care.
It isn’t your place to care anymore.
It isn’t my place to care anymore.
But I do. But you do. But it’s us.
But I can’t. I’m not supposed to. I won’t.

Smiles from across the room, and I’m happy.
Truly happy. No faking. No words thrown in anger.
No reality. No substance. No you.
But I’m happy. I’m loved. I’m wanted.
It’s the best thing for me. The best thing in a while.
Who wouldn’t? Who couldn’t? Not me. Not you.

Longing. Waiting. Wishing. Hoping. Stalling.
For the nights where I can hold you, kiss you, feel you.
For when the timing is right.
That I won’t lose you this time.
That guilt leaves my body, that I can be okay again.
Because my everything is with you, for you, because of you.

Love.
Beauty and grace and hope and want and need.
Content.
Laughter and smiles and happiness and feelings and truth.
For you, for him, for my thoughts, for my heart.
Guilt. Anger. Denial. Confusion.

Detest courses through my veins,
Guilt devours my bones.
Do I punish for my heart for what it cannot let go of?
It is already gone. Not you, not us, the time.
My fault. My mind, my hands, time.
They stole it away, tip-toeing around my sensitive heart.